Beautifully Broken
by topsell
Summary: Wikus is quickly found by the government and forced into captivity. When Christopher returns in 3 years, he returns to the shell of the man he left. Can injuries be fixed or will Christopher have to take the broken soul with him? Chris/Wikus Updated WIP
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Beautifully Broken  
**Author**: E.E. Kelley  
**Summary**: Without Christopher to keep him hidden, Wikus was quickly found by the MNU and forced back into captivity. The transformation too far along, there was little the officers could do but allow it to complete itself. Yet, even after he has become fully Prawn, they keep him around, determined to use his existence to find a way to use the alien weaponry. When Christopher returns in three years time, he returns to find the shell of the man he left. Will he be able to fix him before leaving with his people once more or will he have to take the broken soul with him?  
**Rating**: R+

**A/N**: As well, I'm also working on a D9 Fic, _Metamorphosis_, that deals more with Wikus' relationship with the Poleepkwa (and their alien culture) that find him after the events of the movie -- and how he functions in the time before (and then after) Christopher leaves. In comparison, this fic is more Prawn Pr0n than the other I am working on.

This chapter is written to be broken and segmented on purpose, the rest of the fic will not have this format.

**Chapter One**

****

i

He wanted his quiet, ordered, suburban life: the one with a desk job and house and his sweet angel waiting when he got back from one to the other.

When the MNU has first found him, curled up in a dark corner of the District a good month after the mother ship had vanished, he was still more or less completely human. He had changed a fair bit in the last month, the transformation extending up his one arm and down the other, breaking through the skin along his chest and back to reveal a near-black shell that shone green in the light. Antenna had broken free of his skull as it altered painfully slow, along with his eyes. The skin along his thighs was beginning to split as it had along his arms and chest, but that too was moving at a near standstill, drawing out the agony.

The had found him like that, curled in dirty newspaper, starving, and forced him into one of the government vans with little care. The MNU officers had done more damage to his humanity that Wikus could have expected. As one fo the guards threw him into a temporary cell , the skin along his upper arm which clung desperately gave way, tearing off with a sound like ripped meat. It was all he could do not to cry out. Not for the pain it brought, but a sensation of loss and the sight itself. He still expected pain even though the nerve endings had died away long ago.

As the officers processed him, it was as though they had taken a good deal of effort to scrub, prying with harsh hands at the remainder of his hair and forcing it to fall, peeling the skin along the back of his cranium so that the sharp points of spikes emerged. The contrast between his skin and shell was sickening and if he had anything in his stomach to empty, he would have. They had done all of this in the comfort of a mirrored room, giving him the privilege to watch his own destruction.

He settled for a dry wretch as one of officers peeled soft tissue away and began to pry at the split skin along his upper leg. The skin had broken enough to allow for shell to show. It had intrigued the man, who had taken his good time peeling his leg like an orange. The nerves had yet to fade away and Wikus had to bite his tongue from screaming.

Lucky for him, he had not had to go through the ordeal again. The man had finished with his left leg and left Wikus to hobble down the white corridor of the lab, one leg human, one mostly not.

When they finally dumped him into his cell, a room so white it gave the impression of ironically sterile, he had pounded on the clear wall, made of plastic with a slight electric current run through it. He banged on its surface until his fist bled, yelled until black blood dribbled down his chin. The soldiers and scientists -- those who had paid enough attention to notice his pain -- only laughed.

He hadn't bothered with the wall since then, only huddled in the corner watching his skin peel.

That lasted a good few days, until a gut wrenching pain ran through him entirely, forcing him to scream once more, flailing on the ground, seizing with each limb splayed. The pain was intensifying, tearing through him in one, final finale. The guards crowded around his little cage, soon to be pushed away by the scientists and MNU higher-ups. Wikus didn't care, though. All he cared about was getting away from the pain.

In his menial efforts, he began to claw at the remainder of his skin, at his skull, trying to tear past the searing sensation. It didn't work, only created ribbons of skin he had torn in neat rows like a cheese grater. He screamed, cried out to those who watched with their clipboards and eyes full of objective interest. Hobbling over to the glass wall once more, leaving a smear of black on perfect white tiles, Wikus began to pound once more, using not only clawed fists, but entire arms, and when the pain swelled within him, his entire form -- as though he were trying to break down a door.

The shock emitted by the clear wall meant nothing to him now; it meant nothing compared to the horror that radiated through his entire being.

He cried out, screamed at the men in their white coats, at the men in their neatly pressed soldier uniforms, but mostly at the men in their suits, at the men that he knew. He screamed until it was as though the words were being stolen from him, drowned. One moment he was cursing the entirety of the MNU out, the next he couldn't seem to move his mouth.

Wikus was suffocating, white spots swimming in front of his eyes as he tried desperately for air. It was that which finally knocked him into blackness. And as he lost consciousness, all Wikus could think of was how much he hoped not to wake up again.

ii

Wikus had gotten used to the soldiers ignoring him, to the MNU agents -- many of which he knew from his time working in the government offices -- walking right past him. They all understood full well who he was; their clipboards said it all and if that wasn't enough, a more than noticeably sized (sign) had been erected next to his little cage. Wikus was on display. They knew it; he knew it. With little else to do, Wikus curled into the furthest corner of the cell and tried not to remember where he was.

It was strange, but he missed the District. He missed CJ and didn't want to think about how far away the child and his farther were now, or whether or not they could even find him now that he was no long among the refugees. That thought had to be shaken away quickly: he couldn't bear to dwell on the subject, to wonder how long the MNU would draw his torture out before they finally brought it all to an end. There was no doubt that it would be before Christopher returned with his armada -- if he even did return.

It was only when his father in law moved past the cage did Wikus' blood run cold. Striding with a purpose and confidence Wikus had always dreamed of having himself, Piet Smit moved past his Son in Law's cell with not so much as a quick look to the sign as if reorient himself within the military facility. He didn't care; he never cared.

A growl rose in Wikus' throat, bitter and feral. The sound vibrated through him, putting him on edge. Antenna twitching, eyes glowing with rage, Wikus threw himself once more at the glass wall, pounding on the surface, barely feeling the sharp echos of pain as electricity coursed through him. Only when his Father in Law turned did he notice streaks of black marring his shell and softer lines of liquid seeping between the cracked plates of his arms.

The old man stared at him, eyes empty. Smit turned from Wikus, speaking briskly to a scientist who had been passing in the opposite direction before leaving himself.

As Wikus watched someone he had so recently considered family stride down the hall, he let himself fall away. The scientist had moved up next to his cell and was intently taking notes, looking up every so often to survey the damage Wikus had done to himself.

Wikus thought that was all the scientist was planning on doing until one of the two, a middle-aged man with a blotchy complexion, motion across the corridor toward three guards who had been lounging as if on break. The three soldiers moved towards Wikus' cell and, after listening to what the scientist had to say, hoisted their guns up, pointing them at the exhausted alien even through glass. Before Wikus had time to wonder why, the first scientist punched at a hand held keypad and the glass that had separated the cell from the hallway vanished.

Wikus wanted to run, wanted to get up and at least cause a scene, but he could barely move anymore. Yesterday his body had gone through the final alterations, using up any stored energy he had to transform completely. It was a wonder he had the strength to rage at his father in law. They hadn't bothered to feed him since being in the MNU facility and Wikus wasn't sure they meant to.

"Come on," one of the soldiers, a lanky twenty-something, demanded, moving in front of the second scientist and his clipboard, "Don't got all day. Get up!"

He jammed the butt of his rifle against Wikus' head, catching an antenna and sending little shards of discomfort through the alien skull.

"Get up already, damn bug!" the soldier hit him harder, slamming the body of his gun to the side of Wikus face. The blow sent Wikus down, sprawled out on the white floor. He heard the man stepping towards him and wanted to get up, wanted to do what the teenage soldier said, but his body would listen. Limbs were distant and remote, not quite cooperating as if he were still half-asleep.

The soldier made a move to kick him, but was stopped by one of the scientists.

"It's consumed too many calories recently, so we might as well get a gurney down here so we don't have to deal with the thing staggering about at a standstill." the man said in a voice set a pitch too high for someone of his girth, "Radio for one of the doctors to bring a gurney down from the medical sector and we can get this down fast."

Grumbling, the soldier did as he was told, speaking to static in a harsh tone.

Wikus listened to the men all speak, the soldiers joking with one another, the scientist ushering another white-coated man over to discuss something in lowered voices. He didn't hear anything they said, didn't care anymore.

The gurney came faster than Wikus had expected it to, followed by a young woman with slightly too many freckles and ears a size too big. She maneuvered the bed so that it was directly in front of Wikus cell and stood there, as if waiting for something to happen.

The scientist spoke in his squeaky voice, "Thing's still too weak from what happened yesterday. We're going to have to heft it up onto the gurney."

Wikus wondered when exactly he became an "it" and "thing" to these people, but then again it's not as though they were too off the mark. He looked down at his bleeding arms. The shell was a deep green, shining almost black beneath the florescent bulbs. Spikes tapered off, looking dangerously sharp along the outer part of his arms. Cracks marred the surface, oozing dark blood, staining the shell even darker.

All three soldiers had moved up next to him and began to manhandle him, lifting his body roughly off the ground and onto the rolling bed. He didn't bother to struggle, there really wasn't a point to it, only closed his eyes and tried not to be. A sharp crack echoed through the white halls as one of the young soldiers dropped his right arm and let it slam against the ground. Wikus winced pushing back a yelp as tendrils of pain wound through his arm. He didn't want to give the damn guard anything to work with in making his life as a captive pure hell.

Hefting him onto the gurney, the soldiers proceeded to strap Wikus' limbs and neck down as they might with a mental patient. Nodding to the blotchy scientist, Wikus felt the bed begin to roll. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on nothing, pretending that he was in a normal hospital getting a broken bone set. That only brought back thoughts of the last time he had seen a doctor -- just after being sprayed by the alien capsule.

iii

"Well, from what we can deduce, there is no remainder of human DNA. We had planned to continue with the previous experiments on weaponry while simultaneous working on a way to halt the prawn transformation, but something spurred on the mutation." said a far-off voice. Wikus realized he must have fallen asleep or been sedated by the MNU operatives...the latter was more likely. "We have found a new use for the alien, though. While the changes were complete, it seems that there are some dysfunction's relating to the specimens reproductive organs. What exactly, we're not certain of, but this poses some very interesting questions."

Opening his eyes, Wikus saw darkness without shadows, as though he were confined in something very small. He tried to lift his arms, to reach out and find a way to escape, but they were still tied down. Even the secondary set of arms on his abdomen were belted down.

In desperation, he moved his antenna, trying to feel out if he truly was, and when he did, his fears were confirmed: he was in a small, metal tube.

Wikus heard the far-off voice continue, and tried to call out. His cries came out strange and garbled -- the clicking of a prawn, though he was barely able to maneuver his new mouth parts. Now words, only insect sounds.

Wikus felt a prick between one of his leg plates as if a needle had come out of the darkness. Soon, consciousness faded. When he woke again, he was back in his cell. Bandages covered his upper arms and soft neck-parts. When he unraveled them, he found the peppered marks of needles and clotted blood.

It seems they weren't going to let Wikus die just yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Beautifully Broken  
**Author**: E.E. Kelley  
**Summary**: Without Christopher to keep him hidden, Wikus was quickly found by the MNU and forced back into captivity. The transformation too far along, there was little the officers could do but allow it to complete itself. Yet, even after he has become fully Prawn, they keep him around, determined to use his existence to find a way to use the alien weaponry. When Christopher returns in three years time, he returns to find the shell of the man he left. Will he be able to fix him before leaving with his people once more or will he have to take the broken soul with him?  
**Rating**: R+  
**Pairings**: Christopher/Wikus + CJ adorableness

**A/N**: This was completed yesterday...but I went out with some friends to see Avatar and when i got back home was too enamored by pretty graphics to do anything but take a shower and go to sleep. The movie was quite fantastic and I would highly recommend it (though it's no D9). Clearly, though, they'll beat District 9 out of any type of special effects award this year. Bad timing, Peter Jackson. Bad timing.

Two Chapters WILL be posted today, by the way.

Anyway, this is part 2 of the MNU section. Apologies for some rather unpleasant events coming up. I do promise we will get to Christopher, but please be patient: he's on his way! I as well want to say I will be posting chapters of Metamorphosis, but I'm wanting to get to the same number of chapters released on that fic (four) before I begin to interchange days between both.

**Chapter Two**

i

Wikus lay on the floor, staring at the wall. He was too tired to move, too exhausted to care that there was a scientist at his cage's window, staring. The MNU had gone through a great deal of trouble, testing him in every possible way, edging forward from the mundane X-Ray's toward more dangerous territory. He had good reminders of those tests lining his arms, legs and the now-broken secondary arms against his chest. Still, with the MNU going through such extensive testing, they hadn't bothered to feed him yet. It had been well over a week since WIkus was stuffed in this white room and it's not as though he'd been eating on a regular basis before they had caught him.

There was a buzzing sound, a crackle like radio static that Wikus had come to know as the cell door being de-electrified and opened. Bracing himself for the soldiers to come in and drag him out, Wikus tensed. But, there was the sound of the touch pad being pressed and electric current restabilizing. A soft snuffling came from behind him. Something soft and fleshy moved on the "other side" of his eight by eight foot cell.

Wikus turned, clearly confused, and saw a piglet meandering about, giving quiet, grunting noises while examining Wikus left leg.

He stared at the animal for a long moment, before realizing what it was for. It was food. The scientists had given him a live animal to tear apart for dinner. Wikus felt bile rise in his throat and a distraught, clicking sound filled the cell. He wasn't going to tear some little animal apart for meat! These fuckers thought of him as nothing more than an animal himself, thought that he was nothing but an empty shell acting on instinct! A growl rose in his throat and met with the clicking. The piglet squealed and ran to the furthest corner of the cage, pressing itself against the wall.

Stopping, Wikus silenced himself. He didn't want to deal with this. The MNU should just let him die. It's not as though they were going to keep him alive long anyway. With a huff, Wikus fell back down on the floor and tried to sleep. When he woke again, the animal was gone. The gut-wrenching hunger was not.

It was another three days before the scientists returned. There had been no experiments and no tests save a single, mostly-painless blood and tissue sample on day two. Wikus just lay in his cell, trying to get over the clawing hunger between bouts of unconsciousness. When he woke again to the noises of the piglet in his cell, Wikus sat straight up. There was something new about the creature now. Its presence was accompanied by a salty-sweet scent. Wikus' antenna perked, swiveling as if to find the source of the smell, searching for food that had been left with the pig. Two short but deep marks had been made on the piglets neck. The marks shown against fleshy-pink skin red and glistening in the harsh lighting. When Wikus moved slightly, enthralled by the sight of blood, the pig struggled to move further away and stumbled over its own legs. Blood had been pouring out of the creature since well before it had been tossed into his cell. It struggled in the far corner, making panicked sounds as it pressed against the wall.

Wikus watched, eyes hooded with exhaustion and hunger. His eyes followed the pigs every move, scanned the floor for amount of blood with casual interest. The hunger pains which had been subsiding to a distant ache lately were back, full force, tearing through him. He could see himself tearing into the tiny half-dead animal, ripping through flesh and bone, letting the little thing squeal until there was no more life in it. He could see himself eating the pig, whether it was alive or dead, and he could see himself enjoying it.

Retching -- or as close to as his new anatomy would allow -- Wikus turned from the frightened animal again, not wanting to watch or think anymore. It took over two hours, but the animal noises subsided, slowed and finally silenced. When he turned back to the piglet, its body was slumped against the far wall surrounded by blood.

Wikus still wouldn't eat the animal, still didn't want to touch the animal, though everything in his body told him he should feed. After three days, the piglets body was beginning to reek. Blood that has before been pooling about the animal was only a red-brown smear on the floor. The meat was beginning to shrivel, eyes beginning to sink. Still, Wikus felt himself wanting to eat the pile of rotting meat, wanting to stuff his face with what he saw as food. He waited another three days for the scientists to take the dead pig away, but they never came.

Almost a week after the animal had been shoved in his cell, realizing that the only way the corpse would be removed was him eating it, Wikus slid over to the far wall and began to tentatively pry and skin and bone. In the week since it had died, the pigs body had lost a lot of water. The meat, though still soft with blood, was beginning to shrivel. When he touched its back, skin was hard as a shell. The thought made Wikus want to throw himself far from the animal, want to forget about feeding on its tiny body, but the idea of sitting here for anther week while the animal began to truly rot was enough to keep him seated.

He pulled at the skin, prying with his clawed fingers until he had wormed his way through the skin. Wanting to get the process done faster, Wikus took both hands and tore at the creature. Surprised by the strength he still held, the piglet tore almost completely in two, revealing insides far less marred by decay. Pink meat was surrounded by an inch or so of white-fat. He stared at the meat, trying to ignore the creatures organs which had fallen on the floor by his feet. It looked like food again -- undercooked food, but no longer like a live animal. Uncertain, he brought the meat to his mouth and tasted.

It was the first time he had eaten anything in this alien body, and the sensation sent shivers down his...well, spine wasn't the right world. He found himself clicking happily, mouth-parts moving to grasp the meat as he had seen prawn do a hundred times in the district and training videos Wikus had watched and supervised. He let his hands drop as his mouth took over. Tentacles grasped, holding the broken body in place as sharp malaxilla tore into it like teeth. He heard the crack of bone and tried to pretend that the sound was something else -- was pecan brittle or rock candy or something other than bone. But, when the marrow hit his throat, all illusions were gone and he was seeking out to snap bones once more. When the meat in his mouth was finally gone he opened his eyes, catching sight of the bloody mess still on the floor -- the creatures internal parts. He found himself unconsciously seeking out the mess. Closing his eyes, he picked up the mess and began to eat that too. If he could cry, he would have.

It took less than five minutes for him to eat, and though it did little but sate his hunger. Looking to the clear wall, Wikus saw the blotchy-faced scientists focused on his clipboard, scribbling away. When he noticed Wikus watching, he made a note of that too. Hanging his head, Wikus was relieved and ashamed for the act to be over. He knew what he had looked like to the MNU.

Rage built in his chest, a silent swelling that he didn't know how to release. He wanted to shout, wanted to find some way to do the same thing to those goddamn scientists and make them feel the humiliation he felt. He wanted to find a fucking way to lower them to his level and make them hurt. But, the next time a piglet was brought to his cell, Wikus snapped its neck quickly and ate. The scientist was there to watch while he did.

ii

He had counted the days on his hands -- something that had become increasingly harder. It had been four months since Christopher left with the Mothership, almost three since the MNU had found him in District 9. He could imagine that operations had been resumed to transfer the aliens to District 10 at this point if they hadn't already finished that completely. In the back of his mind, he was still vaguely upset that someone else had taken his place. Because, in the ends that's how it works. Someone else was doing his job right now, taking his desk and his responsibilities and his life away.

Wikus made a sort of moaning sound followed by quick, high-pitched clicking he had come to realize was the sound of him crying. Wikus looked down at his hands...not his hands anymore, something else.

There was a sound at the door again and Wikus barely turned his head, assuming it was one of the scientists ready to spirit him away for a session of their brand of medical tests. Lately, they had moved towards his lower regions, sending sparks of fear through Wikus whenever they did these tests. He had tried to follow their conversation, tried to understand the order in which they were doing things, but he was tired. They fed him every week or two at most and he could barely stay away half the time let alone follow the choppy conversation between these "doctors".

In any regard, he'd been feeling more antsy lately, more on edge. He would have attributed it to male hornyness, but there was nothing arousing about that the scientists did or conditions he was in. It had gotten so bad lately, Wikus woke one night rubbing himself against the smooth floor, making rapid clicking sounds as if he'd been masturbating. It had taken quite a lot to get himself to stop, but when he had, Wikus realized that's exactly what he'd been doing.

Someone tapped on the glass wall, apparently trying to get his attention. Wikus antenna perked. Nobody had done that, not since they'd shoved him in the cell. He turned hopefully towards the leering face of an scientist and handful of doctors and soldiers -- teen-soldier included. When the young soldier realized he'd gotten Wikus' attention, he pointed to something behind the lot of them. A huge, black-shelled alien was standing behind the crowd of humans. The creature was huge, easily a good two feet taller than Wikus was with crimson streaks all down his carapace making the shell look dangerous.

Wikus heard the familiar sound of the wall being shut down, and pressed himself against the opposite side of the wall. He could smell the other alien, scent him with his antenna and there was something there that scared him. He could taste the black-shelled prawns pharamones, his arousal. When the wall came down, those scents intensified ten fold.

Yelping, Wikus tried to meld into the wall, pushing himself as far away from the opening as possible. He knew what was coming, knew from the sick, anticipating grin plastered on the scientists face. He'd watched the videos and it all clicked into place. The goddamn aliens had a mating season, like any other animal. These bastards knew that and they were fooking going to shove a prawn into his barely-movable cell to see what happened!

They did just that. The huge alien was pushed inside the cell and the exit sealed.

Looking only slightly disoriented, the alien surveyed his surroundings before moving forward a step. Wikus let out a sound of fear, and closed his eyes as if not looking at the monster in front of him would make it go away. Only when he felt the touch of clawed hands on his shoulder did Wikus open his eyes. The prawn was on his knees, staring intently at Wikus as if waiting for something.

"Now." the creature clicked, sending a ripple of pheromones through the air that caught Wikus by surprise.

The alien didn't wait for him to respond, but grabbed Wikus by his shoulders and pressed him to the ground hard. Wikus tried to cry out, but he could only manage soft moans as the alien began to descend lower. He turned his head to free at least that, but only caught a glimpse of the crowd still there before the black prawn caught his antenna, pulling on the tender appendages as if to tell him to stay still. Wikus did, for every time he moved now tiny shards of pain were sent through his entire body.

Wikus tried to leave his body, tried what he had so many times since this whole hell started. But, when the alien finally met his mark -- pressing himself against the soft places where Wikus shell didn't cover reproductive organs, he let out a high-pitched click, growing more rapid as the alien unsheathed his own organ and began to tease the area. Wikus cried out, yelled wordlessly for the alien to stop, for the MNU to go to hell, but when finally the creature was inside of him, Wikus couldn't manage anymore.

He went silent as the alien finished and pulled out. He didn't even more when the soldiers came into his cell to retrieve the prawn. It took hours, but when finally all the soldiers were gone and he was alone, he started to cry.**  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: Beautifully Broken  
**Author**: E.E. Kelley  
**Summary**: Without Christopher to keep him hidden, Wikus was quickly found by the MNU and forced back into captivity. The transformation too far along, there was little the officers could do but allow it to complete itself. Yet, even after he has become fully Prawn, they keep him around, determined to use his existence to find a way to use the alien weaponry. When Christopher returns in three years time, he returns to find the shell of the man he left. Will he be able to fix him before leaving with his people once more or will he have to take the broken soul with him?  
**Rating:** R+  
**Pairings**: Christopher/Wikus + CJ adorableness

**A/N**: Short chapter today since tomorrow's is rather long and they were supposed to be one chapter. 

**Chapter Three****  
**

i.

He stared at the wall, tracing blood stains that shattered any illusion of perfect sterility in the department head -- blotchy face's -- laboratory. Wikus tried to figure out what the pink stains looked like as he lay strapped to the table -- it had become his cloud watching lately -- but all he could see lately was his Angel's face. Even in the dirty smears of a holding cells filth, he saw Tania. She deserved better, deserved to be seen in the clouds, in the sky, but lately it didn't seem to matter: Wikus saw his wife everywhere.

The experiments had become routine over the last couple months or so. Hell, even meals had. Grant it, they only came once a week, but it was always after his visit to the blotchy faced scientist's lab where he lay now. Wikus tried to think about that: think about hunger pains numbed a bit when he got back to his cell. He didn't focus on where the food was coming from -- pretended he was really in prison and they would deliver the tray through a hole in the door. He released a sigh he hadn't realized was being held, letting himself relax a little.

Noticing, one of the soldiers who had been standing guard in the room's far corner grinned wide. "Looks like the prawn's enjoying himself." he leered, teeth yellow. "Told you they're like mutts. All ya' really got to do is know how to condition them. LIke that one dude -- whatshisface -- Pavelove something."

"Ivan Pavlov." blotchy face spoke slowly. "And yes, that is the idea." he was putting on gloves that covered up half his arms in a fine latex and a white smock that went down to the plump mans knees. Wikus shuttered, knowing that whenever the scientists wore these uniforms, they were preparing for some of their more grisly tests. "Though, it seems as if we still have a ways to go as far as some other stimulation's are concerned."

Blotchy face's assistant, the young doctor who had wheeled his gurney to cell the first week, nodded and checked something off on her chart before moving beside the metal table Wikus was strapped to. She checked the metal bindings that held his limbs in place before moving to do the same with a tray of surgical instruments. When every handle of every scalpel was perfectly polished the young woman nodded to her supervisor.

"We're ready to proceed then?" he asked and she nodded, moving back to allow the man's substantial girth next to the table.

"We'll be finishing up the tests on it's reproductive system today." he said in a bored tone, "Hopefully after that we can move onto more exploratory tests that will allow for more thorough results. Better results for the chair ad his weapons program.

Wikus shuttered and the man noticed.

"Nikki," he called to the young doctor, "would you mind giving the alien a sight sedative. Nothing to knock it out, just impair movement slightly."

She nodded and stuck Wikus in his soft neck tissue with a needle twice as long as a pencil. He shuttered at the sting, but that faded fast. Soon he was barely there, not quite certain of what was going on around him. He watched the Tania-shaped stain on the ceiling, pretending it was a photograph and his gaze was merely blurred from sleep.

"Proceed." the scientist said, motioning to the cart of tools. Wikus almost gasped, though, when the young doctor didn't reach for any of the traditional surgical utensils, but instead opened a small door near the cart's bottom and took out something long and dangerous looking.

She carried what appeared to be a massive beaker, the length of a human arm and half the width, advancing on Wikus, moving in the places obscured by his tied-down position. One of the soldiers laughed in the background, and only when Wikus felt the tube moving against his thighs did he begin to panic. When the tube moved between his legs and towards the soft parts where plates met, Wikus let out a pained chirp.

"Sounds like the bug's enjoying itself!" the far-off soldier cackled. Wikus' vision was going red, spotted with white. He tried to (focus) on the thought of his wife, of her in his arms. "See what happens when you push deeper."

"I'll take control," blotchy-face grunts as if to saw the other mans opinions were reasonable but only out of blind luck. "you monitor and keep excessive notes. I don't want to have to do this again tomorrow."

Wikus tried not to feel, tried not to think, but even with the sedative and gnawing hunger, he couldn't help but cry out at every sudden movement. Something sharp had advanced from the tip of the tube and was cutting through his insides. The lead scientist maneuvered the instrument careful, carve him like a turkey.

When the huge whale of a man connected a wire to the end of the tube and flicked a switch, Wikus nearly cried out full force. "Nurse, please make sure the bindings are tightened. " he spoke without emotion.

WIkus whimpered when the doctor flicked a switch and suction began to play about his insides, warping and pulling at the wounds the man had inflicted.

He then, passed out. When finally he came to again, the pig in his cell had already bled to death. He ate his meat slowly, not able to move without pain from the inside out. The next day, he found himself strapped to the table again. Apparently the young doctor, Nikki, hadn't prepped something quite right and the entire ordeal had to be done over again. This time, Wikus didn't try to hold back his cries of pain. 

ii.

Wikus' Father in Law hadn't passed the cell again in nearly nine months. Wikus didn't expect him to. Piet Smite never was the type of person to dirty his own hands. Sure he had no problem sending others on more than questionably moral actions, but the man was smart, pragmatic and manipulative. He worked the system so that if there ever was some mass uprising of alien support, no prosecutor would touch him with a ten-foot pole. Hell, they couldn't pin him on anything even if they wanted to! Sure, the records weren't exactly hidden well, but that didn't mean his name was on any of the papers. They were all labeled "Official" and "Confirmed Orders", but there was never a signature, never a connection. Piet Smit had worked the system -- fuck, he'd made the system and it worked for him!

So, when the man walked down the too-brightly lit hallway with a clipboard in his very own hands, WIkus couldn't help but give a surprised click at seeing him come. Scrambling up, he nearly lost his footing on the floor, damp with pig's blood still, carcass discarded and half-devoured on the far side of the cell. What astounded him even more, was that Piet wasn't walking down the hallway, but towards Wikus' cage. The man was coming to him.

When Piet stood in front of Wikus cell, flipping through charts that he could only assume were a list of the experiments and detailed results, Wikus remained absolutely still. He was shell shocked, not sure what to do, if he should do anything. Only his antenna swiveled, unconsciously trying to make sense of the mans scent, of his motives. Only when the clipboard was lowered and Piet's dark eyes were surveying him like an animal to be studied did Wikus move forward, towards the electric current and glass.

"Lasted quite a long time, didn't you?" he said curtly, the malice hidden beneath layers of disconcert. "Honestly, I didn't expect you to. I mean, to be perfectly honest, you were never exactly the tough-type, Wikus."

At his name, Wikus was almost buzzing. He hadn't heard it in so long, half forgot that it was his. "Y-you." he clicked awkwardly, having trouble shaping words with no practice. "How-w co-uld you."

"What, Wikus? You mean this?" he motioned around as though taking in the entirety of the MNU building, "It's call progress, Wikus! That's what we're all about, what the MNU is doing! It's what we've been about all along--not that you would have ever realize that. Christ, the only reason you even got a job as good as you did was because you married my daughter! I mean, you weren't exactly ever the best or brightest."

"Tan-ia..." his tried with clumsy success. The word, a single word, sparked so much. His mind raced, drenched him with rage and with sorrow.

"What about her?" Piet shrugged as if Wikus had asked what time it was.

"Wan--t to seee h-er." he formed the words slowly, carefully as if his life depended on them. "Tania."

Piet cracked a grin, something dark seeping through his expression, making Wikus cringe. "For once, we're in complete agreement." WIkus just stared, watching the man as if he weren't real. Before he could utter another broken phrase, though, the MNU Director cut in.

"You're going to see my daughter again. I want her to finally be able to let go. She mourned like the good woman and wife she is, but it's been too long. She needs to be done with this, move on." he picked up his clipboard again, "She needs to see the monster you are now and let go of the notion that the man she married will ever come back. Now, if you don't mind, I'll leave you to the men in white. Expect me tomorrow with company."


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: Beautifully Broken  
**Author**: E.E. Kelley  
**Summary**: Without Christopher to keep him hidden, Wikus was quickly found by the MNU and forced back into captivity. The transformation too far along, there was little the officers could do but allow it to complete itself. Yet, even after he has become fully Prawn, they keep him around, determined to use his existence to find a way to use the alien weaponry. When Christopher returns in three years time, he returns to find the shell of the man he left. Will he be able to fix him before leaving with his people once more or will he have to take the broken soul with him?  
**Rating**: R+  
**Pairings**: Christopher/Wikus + CJ adorableness

**A/N**: Oh, Timeframe: we're at about 9 months in part one.

**  
Chapter Four**

i.

He went through the motions, barely registering as blotchy face and his assistant, the lovely Nikki, took tissue samples from all six of his majour limbs. Only when they began to drag the knife against Wikus' head towards the double set of antenna did he react violently.

"I'd say tranq it, but the Director wants sedative drugs out of its system -- at least for today." the man shrugs, putting the knife back onto its tray, "Give him a final dose of what the Director gave to us and we'll finish this up tomorrow, anway. Hell, I'm exhausted. It's aleady eleven."

Wikus wondered briefly if the man meant in the morning or evening. His body had lost all connection with the time of day. Added to the fact that the MNU operated into the odd hours of the morning, there was no telling what time it was. A final needle stick, and the guards were called back into the room, ready to wheel Wikus to his cell. He didn't register any of it, and only when the gurney was turned onto its side, sending him sprawling limb over limb onto the dirty floor, did Wikus focus once more. Clicking a curse, Wikus righted himself and moved to the far corner. Remnants of his meal yesterday still stained the corner nearest the clear wall speckled against white in strangely fascinating patterns of flesh and gore.

He thought briefly of cleaning the floor -- it would only end up stinking over time -- but he couldn't think of eating anything, didn't want to think of that mess as food.

If Piet hadn't in fact lied, there was the smallest chance that his wife was coming, would see him today. The very thought of that made his stomach clench and the thought of food even less appealing. So Wikus just let himself fall asleep. It wasn't often that the MNU finished with him after such a short session. He should at the very least enjoy this single shard of peace.

He slept through restless dreams, through images of his his Wife and Father in Law, of the District and paper work, of Christopher and this very cell.

When finally he woke, Wikus felt as though he hadn't slept at all and pictures still churned about his head for hours on end. He was twitchy, nearly jumping out of his skin. Mandibles clacked together in irregular patterns against his will, and his secondary arms wouldn't keep still. He tried to focus on pleasant thoughts: Taina. Yet, those only led to wistful thinking that made his head hurt more and the torrent in his mind spin faster. In the end, slumped against the far wall with his head in his hands, Wikus focused on thoughts of -- strangely enough -- Christopher and his tiny son. When his mind started to wonder towards possibilities of being cured or not, he just turned them back to the prawn. Somehow, that made his head stop hurting and Wikus finally slept, no longer plagued by the maddening images of what should be.

When he woke again, what seemed like minutes later, it was to the sound of his door buzzing open: a perfectly timed alarm.

The same guards who had thrown him into the cell earlier retrieved him once more, this time not bothering with the gurney, instead pulling him down the hallway iron-clad grips. He stumbled as the men, much smaller and shorter even than his emasculated prawn frame, nearly slipping on the floor more times than he cared to count. He lost purchase completely twice, ending up on the ground twice, but after being pounded by those men's army-issue boots and dragged forward until he stood once more, WIkus focused completely on not letting himself again.

The men disposed of him in another room -- much similar to his own cell but so much larger. The ceiling was a huge, arched thing that reached up far past a second story, the walls curved into a circle. Wikus' nervous clicks bounced off and around the empty whiteness, coming back to him sounding like a dozen prawn.

One of the guards returned, sat two chairs in the far corner of the room from where Wikus was standing and pressed a button before leaving. A crackle rose as a new wall divided the room in two, slight charges bounding from floor to ceiling every so often as if in a race. The only door in the room was sectioned off from where Wikus stood.

For the first time since he had ever met his Father in Law, Wikus believed what he had said completely.

He stood on the far side of the room, nearly pressed against the wall while he rung his hands together. The doctors had taken samples of the tissue beneath the plates and he still ached. Nerves kept him moving, kept him grasping at his own hands because he needed to hold onto something, cricket-fast chirps refusing to stop. He stood on the far side of the room for what seemed like a couple hours, and as he did his agitation only rose, making his mind race with nonsense. When he was finally ready to admit that Piet had merely lied to him again, the lights dimmed on his side to twilight and a latch struck and the door opened.

Piet walked into the room, flanked by four black-clad guards carrying weapons twice the size of their own arms. They formed a wall around their Direction, moving like shadows as Piet did.

Wikus turned, scenting the air. It was a sweet scent, a clean scent. Even on Piet a rank stench of the District and these very laboratories clung to him like a second skin. This was something different, something that if he could put smells into colours would be pure white.

Two more guards moved through the door, weapons held aloft. He recognized the woman between the two of them and froze completely, everything in his system stopping at once at the sight.

Tania, his angel, moved with an uncertainty clearly evident in her soft strides. She was a small thing, appearing even smaller than she had before, pale with hair that seemed to glow golden. A plain pink shirt hung over her shoulders, making the woman look gaunt and stretched thin. When she began looking about, her father ushered her over to the two chairs where she sat beside him, moving so that her shoulders were pressed right up against his.

"You know why were here." her father said simply, placing a hand on Tania's shoulder. The woman nodded and began to search the room again. "Tania," Piet said, drawing her attention back to him, "I talked to you before about what happened; you saw the news before. I know that this is going to be hard, but until you accept what happened to him, there's no way you can move on."

The woman looked desperate, a glimmer of pain entering her gaze before settling back to uncertainty, finally stuttering, "I know. I just...I don't. This doesn't seem real."

Piet nodded, "I'm sorry. We tried every possibility when we found him, but it's as though he didn't want to leave District 9 or what--whoever was there with him. By the time we finally got him to MNU facilities, the disease had progressed too far. He is still contagious and, I hate to think it, not in control of his own mind. He may remember some things, but as time goes on that will as well be stripped away. We've tried everything, but after nearly a year our MNU scientists have assured me Wikus is barely in there anymore. He has some memories, but they are buried beneath instinct and rage. I'm sorry, Tania."

Tania looked up at her father, wide eyes bright with tears ."I know. You told me, it's just I can't believe he would do something like that, that he would--with an alien." her voice dwindled to a whisper and she ended up looking at the floor while tears rolled down her cheeks.

Piet put a hand on her shoulder, coaxing her to look at him once more. "You have to let it go. You cared for him, but that man is dead. He betrayed humans for an alien. He asked for this when he left you, it's not you're fault."

She nodded and slid closer to her father. "He's really gone, isn't he?"

"Yes, dear," Piet nodded, "as good as dead." He nodded to one of the guards who moved behind the pair towards a control panel. "But you know why we came here, don't you?"

"You wanted me to be able to move on. You couldn't stand to see me mourning."

"Yes. You need to let go and you can't if you don't get closure, Tania." Piet said, raising to his feet and pulling his daughter with him while motioning for the guard to raise the lighting.

Tania gasped, her voice faint.

Wikus had moved away from the wall, crouched and poised as if ready to spring. As if a starting shot, the lights threw him back into uncertainty, thoughts racing faster than he could grasp them. He stood on shaky legs, moving towards the centre-mark where the electric wall hummed. Secondary arms grasped at thin air and mandibles chattered even as Wikus tried to still himself. Something inside of him wouldn't allow for any measure of control.

"That's not him." she said simply, stepping back, behind Piet. "No."

"I am sorry, but we talked about this before. He contracted a disease because of a sexual relationship with an infected prawn in the District. There is no cure."

Wikus moved again towards the centre, faster than any human would be able to. He reached out as if trying to touch his wife. "Tani-a!" he buzzed, words he had practiced refusing to form right. "Ba-ab-y, it mmme!" tiny chirps filled the spaces between letters, making it almost impossible to understand. Frustrated, Wikus made a fist and brought it down hard on the electric wall, sending shards of pain and a waterfall of gold and blue sparks. Tania flinched and moved further away. The tears were starting again.

"He-e di-id su-mmmt-hing," Wikus stammered, body working involuntarily, words refusing to settle out, a growl starting in his chest, "too mee!"

Piet looked at him, eyes full of false pity, "You don't remember anymore. I've been here, trying to _help_ you."

"No-t fook'in tru-ue! Lie!" Wikus bashed against the wall again, words dissolving into animal sounds. The growl that had been in his throat rose to the surface, sounding dark and feral. Tania shuffled away and it was as though the dam broke.

Lunging forward, Wikus threw his entire mass against the electric wall, screaming out non-words that were in his mind curses. He didn't know what he was doing, just that he had to get to Piet and tear him limb from limb. It was the first week all over again as Wikus pounded on the surface until plates cracked and bled black blood. Finally exhausted, Wikus dropped to the ground panting like a dog between mouth-tentacles. Tania had backed away and stood between the guards sobbing. Piet stood in front of her, a smirk hidden form his daughter as he looked at Wikus.

"I told you," he said, words full of comfort but face telling another story, "He's gone, Tania. Mental deterioration is becoming more rapid and there's nothing we can do to stop the process."

Tania let out a final, choked sob and nodded to her father. "I know. That's not him, that's not my Wikus anymore!" she cried, words breaking back into tears. "I understand what you were trying to tell me. So sorry I couldn't -- wouldn't listen to you, Dad."

"Not your fault, dear." Piet said, turning to comfort Tania and whispering something to the guards.

Another button was pressed and Wikus was engulfed in blackness once more before the sting of a dart knocked him out completely. He roard as he fell into unconscious and the last thing he heard was Tania's screaming sobs as she ran from the room.

Wikus woke in his white cell and cried until the doctor came to get him the following day. He let them take take samples from the antenna, barely feeling outward pain. Everything else passed in a blur. He didn't see Piet again.  
**  
**

**ii.**

Too much time had passed. Wikus didn't know how long it had been, he really didn't care anymore. He just waited in his cell, did whatever the MNU told him to do, stared at the white walls for hours on end as though he could bleach his mind completely with images of nothing. The doctors had moved on to different tests, littler surgeries every other week. He hurt, but he probably deserved the pain. He couldn't think straight anymore, couldn't do anything but whimper in the corner and wait for his food to be delivered whenever the felt like feeding him or for the doctors to come for testing. He just wanted the MNU to finish with him so this could all be over. Wikus didn't care anymore, he just wanted an end.

SIDENOTE: when I was looking up reference images for Piet Smit's appearance (since the DVD isn't yet in my possession), I couldn't find anything, just kept coming across THIS I'm slightly amused and will now assume that Piet Smit's has a duel career as an "Afrikaanse Artist who has the Lord Jeaus as his saviour (since 1989).


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: Beautifully Broken  
**Author**: E.E. Kelley  
**Summary**: Without Christopher to keep him hidden, Wikus was quickly found by the MNU and forced back into captivity. The transformation too far along, there was little the officers could do but allow it to complete itself. Yet, even after he has become fully Prawn, they keep him around, determined to use his existence to find a way to use the alien weaponry. When Christopher returns in three years time, he returns to find the shell of the man he left. Will he be able to fix him before leaving with his people once more or will he have to take the broken soul with him?  
**Rating**: R+  
**Pairings**: Christopher/Wikus + CJ adorableness

**A/N**: I was snowed in at a house with no internet last evening when I was planning on posting. Apparently the fates don't want me to update my fanfiction. Good news is I had just bought my District 9 DVD so I did have something to do!

As well: sorry for the rather (imo) dull chapter. Consider it a necessary set-up for quite a few different things. Don't you all love transitionary chapters? I know I don't! Chapter Five is being edited as I post this!!

**  
Chapter Five**

i

It was a deep, resonating sound that purred like a growl through all of Johannesburg. For some, it was the sound of utter dread, like the horn at the beginning of battle. For the Poleepkwa, who heard the ships call on a different frequency, the sound made antennas twitch and sent a buzz through each alien's being. They moved from their hovels, from the deep pits of District 10 until the narrow roads between tents were so crowded that it began to spill over and crumple the white cloth pyramids.

The aliens rejoiced, unsure but hoping at the wonderful sensation; the concentration camp guards handled their weapons nervously, unsure of how to proceed.

And as the clouds broke and the figure of a ship emerged as though materializing out of mist, the guards convictions wavered. Every guard tower lining the camp was suddenly empty and so few of the ground patrol remained.

In turn, prawns let loose a cacophany of trills, chiming in gutteral glee as drop ships began to descent. Beetle-black backs of the ship glistened in the half light of an overcast morning, seperating as though in choreographed display and gliding in a variety of directions, dispersing throughout every corner of the slum. As the first slowed, hovering above the earth before landing, what looked like the head of the gleaming insect opened. A collective breath held by those MNU guards brave enough to remain at their posts was released at the sight of the creatures which exited the ship.

Gleaming, red-shelled aliens marched in formation, heads high, weapons aloft. These creatures only held a vague semblance to the refugees within the District. They were larger, great tall and bulky things that stood upon average fifteen feet, huge eyes like honeycomb, filled with shape upon shape, staring but with no certianty where exactly they stared. Their antenna were larger and thicker on their heads, mandibles extended far past tentacles and looming like black scythes jutting from skulls. The most startling difference was their arms -- secondary arms were no longer small and pressed against the thorax like those humans had before seen. The secondary arms of the crimson aliens were the same size as the earth-bound alien's arms had been with the primary's even larger and sharply was a regal look to these new creatures, a fierce nobility brought on by fear and by stature.

This new breed of Poleepkwa filed between the tents, herding smaller aliens towards the open drop ship's doors. The last of the MNU guards, strongest of heart, fled. When questioned by the ragged refugees of District 10 about what was happening, the crimson-shelled soldiers gave quick and garbled responses. One thing that every prawn knew was that they were finally going home.

District 10 emptied, drop ships filled and began their ascend once more to the Mother Ship. Yet, even as the last black ship connected, from the underbell of the Mothership, three vesles far larger than that of the dropships broke free. It was as though the shell of a huge prawn was cracking and splitting the way they broke free from the larger craft. Each of these ships, though taking a slightly different course of direction, glided into the horizion towards the city.

The MNU was radioed, the UN was called, but everyone knew that it really didn't matter what was said, anymore. A realization of what had happened over the last nearly thirty years paralyzed everyone who saw. Humanity began to realize how thoroughly screwed they really were. 

ii

Kreh'te watched the Ensign pilot the transport vessel, nodding as his trainee pressed the right sequence and maneuvered the ship just so. Truthfully, the young one could have crashed their ship into a human office complex and he would have given the same expression. He was distracted, on edge more than a little so. Kreh'te turned from the main control station and moved to his own seat behind the trio of his students who took their craft closer to a building he knew only too well.

It had been three years -- a menial length of time for his species, though it seemed to have been ages ago. The thirty before that blurred together, muddled into a miserable memory of mistreatment and pain and hopelessness. But, just three years back, exactly three turns of this planet ago, he recalled the events so clearly they could have happened mere days before. He could still see the raw emotion etched on that human's face. He could feel the man's own realization of all that suffering, scented upon him the sincerity that had finally dawned at the very end. Wikus was still on this planet, waiting for a cure that Kreh'te had begun working on the moment he entered the Mothership.

Yet, a thorough search of the new District came up with nothing. There were not even residual markings of the man's DNA. When a wider ranged scan had been completed, a little red dot marred his computer screen, placing Wikus in the same MNU facility that the two of them had stormed together three years ago. Uncharacteristically, Kreh'te had insisted that he come along while those of the highest rank began delegations with the human governments and the last of their race was released. He had not been needed on this mission, but would not be left behind.

Kreh'te remembered too well the horror he had seen there: complete and utter brutality. The only thing he could hold onto was that the scanner he held assured him the human was alive. It blipped like a heartbeat, assuring Kreh'te that this was not futile.

"Sir?" the smallest of the group asked at the sensation of his teachers grief.

" It is nothing, Xa'In. Please keep our vessel at hover as well as our shields on maxim until we receive word from the convoy lead."

The youngling nodded and turned back to his controls, trying to ignore the pained scent of his master.

As the first of the ships gave word of their landing, Kreh'te issued the quick command for his own to follow, landing just in front of MNU Head Quarters. He told the eldest of his charges to have the doors opened with shields still up. In the back of the ship, the scarlet soldiers formed their lines, mandibles clicking with a nervous rage. They had heard of what was going on upon this planet, but had only yet come to realize how truly bad it was. When the first of their rank touched ground, the sensation of anger and grief sped through each soldier through the link that connected them all. Now, coming to the centre point of all the pain, it was all they could do to control the urge to storm the building.

A signal was given from the first -- and largest -- ship that little resistance was found. Kreh'te lowered the shield himself and stepped out behind the soldiers. Striding over to where Rhem, his own former master stood, he waited, umber eyes glued on the building.

"I can tell: you were here before, were you not?" his old teacher, a large Poleepkwa with very long antenna, asked.

Kreh'te nodded, trying to keep his internal distress at a minimum so he wouldn't have to answer further questions. "Before, when I was in search of more fuel."

"With the human you are attempting to find now, I can assume?"

"You can." Kreh'te clicked quickly, anxious thoughts of Wikus fate returning. He tried to push them back down, but his teacher had already noticed.

"I already spoke to one of your young Ensigns and know the reason for your accompanying our Stratiotians. The human is currently in these buildings and you wish to find him." he explained simply. "But it is most strange. If what you said before was correct, his no longer appears human." he looked over at Kreh'te, the dark eyes of a scientist wide with wonder.

"That is true; he is not human." Kreh'te clicked, trying to push the conversation away and focus on the building, watching as soldiers began to enter in swarms.

Sighing, Rhem gave a throaty chortle, "I can see you're not interested in sharing any more information with me. While that is perfectly acceptable, I would caution you to be careful while searching for this former human. The greater majourity of this facility has been abandoned, but there are still alien life forms present who may present hostility. That said: I have spoken to the acting Thely and you are free to enter as our soldiers do. Please be careful."

Kreh'te stared back, sensing the concern in his teacher. He nodded and had to steady his stride to keep from sprinting into the MNU building, holding the scanning devise nearly at eye level, watching that little red dot as though it meant everything. One of the soldiers gave him a look and broke off from the group to walk at Kreh'te's side. He didn't say a word, but Kreh'te knew that he had seen this particular Poleepkwa before and he could scent a high rank for the Stratiotian.

"I am looking for someone." Giving the soldier a quick nod, Kreh'te held out his scanner for the other to see. "Is there any way you could help me get to him?"

Scanning the machine, the red-shelled Poleepkwa motioned for Kreh'te to follow. They pressed forward, through the ranks of soldiers, Kreh'te shielding the scanner, letting his body get battered as he pushed through a sea of much larger bodies. When finally they emerged from the mass, two more Stratiotian had joined with the former pair.

"I am--" he looked over at his guide, wanting to introduce himself,"

"Everyone knows who you are. You brought back word of this mess, after all."

Kreh'te nodded. He was well known among the scientists and Entites -- as he had obtained a fairly high position within the Academy before being stranded on this planet -- but had not been aware that he was known outside of that. Trying to hide his surprise, he began to click the first of a reply, but was instantly cut off.

"My name is Vann. I head the Two-Hundred and Thirty-Seventh legion. My second and third accompany us." He motioned towards the pair and continued to walk, gaze wandering to check Kreh'te's scanner every few moments. Only when they were blocked by a heavy door did the group stop.

Motioning towards the other soldiers, Vann stepped back, claw outstretched in a motion for Kreh'te to follow his act. When he was sure of the scientist's safety, Vann gave a single click. The pair expelled something quickly from between their mandibles towards the door. Upon contact, there was a a sizzling sound. Moments later, the door had dissolved completely. They continued on their way, moving down four flights of stairs and repeating the process at the next door.

"He is on this floor." Kreh'te looked over at the soldier who only stared back, hexagonally-pattered eyes alert with an underlying rage.

"And we will retrieve him." He said, moving forward once more.

The corridor they moved through was not very high and the Stratiotian's had to lean forward, hunching as they moved. Still, their backs scrapped the ceiling, leaving mars upon prefect white. Only when three human forms wearing garb the same shade as the hallway blocked their path did the group stop. The humans appeared startled, having turned a corner quickly as they were making their escape only to run into the very creatures they were fleeing from. The leader of the group, a bulky man with very little hair upon his head, moved back, pushing the two women he had been fleeing with in front of him. Kreh'te could sense the growing rage on the parts of the soldiers. They had only seen their people's suffering, not yet the makers of it.

"Please," the large doctor begged, hiding behind his assistant. "We did what the MNU told us to. You can't condemn us for following orders!" the man had begun screaming hysterically, edging backwards and down the hall. He held up his hands in surrender, taking steps back as he did. When he had moved far enough away, the white-coated man made a break for the corner. Before he did, though, Vann's second leaped forward and with a feral growl, released the same spray he had used to dissolve the doorway.

Kreh'te turned as the man screamed for a moment and then became silent. The two others were left behind, ignored. Before he could ask, Vann spoke up, "He was their leader. He stank of blood."

Turning the corner from which the man had come from, they slowed their pace. The place smelled of the same bitter blood that the man had. It was both stale and fresh, reeking of constant bloodshed. The scanner began to beep rapidly, and Kreh'te dashed ahead, past the soldiers and towards---

The Poleepkwa lay on a white floor stained with blood, curled up like a child so that only the back of his green carapace was visible from the entrance. Cracks ran down the shells surface, some still oozing black blood, others having healed improperly turned into indents in the surface. The creature was smaller than any Kreh'te had ever seen, slight in size added to by clear underfeeding. He tested the air again and checked his scanner. He had found Wikus. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Title**: Beautifully Broken  
**Author**: E.E. Kelley  
**Summary**: Without Christopher to keep him hidden, Wikus was quickly found by the MNU and forced back into captivity. The transformation too far along, there was little the officers could do but allow it to complete itself. Yet, even after he has become fully Prawn, they keep him around, determined to use his existence to find a way to use the alien weaponry. When Christopher returns in three years time, he returns to find the shell of the man he left. Will he be able to fix him before leaving with his people once more or will he have to take the broken soul with him?  
**Rating**: R+  
**Pairings**: Christopher/Wikus + CJ adorableness

**A/N**: And now I present actual character interactions (with a side of angst for flavour). I did have a very hard time writing this chapter, by the way, so I hope it turned out acceptably. I started and stopped I writing this I don't know how many times and scrapped and rewrote a good deal of it.  
As well, we hit the 10,000+ word mark last chapter!

I also want to point out that the reason I didn't post this chapter before was merely me being unsure of what to call "Christopher". Chapter Four has been edited accordingly. Thanks for all your comments about the alien's names! 

**Chapter Six**

i.

Kreh'te didn't look back at the soldiers who followed, just smashed the device that had been sending electrical charges over the cage's plastic wall. The panel shorted out, stinging him as sparks danced over his carapace. He ignored the sensation and stepped forward, dropping the scanner into his vest pocket, crouching next to the still form.

"Wikus," he murmured, reaching out to touch the small creature's shoulders. "Wikus, it is me." He reached out with his secondary arms to touch the small Poleepkwa once more. When he met Wikus' shell, there was a sudden flinch and then nothing, stillness. Kreh'te called out his name once more, but there was no response. Wikus just lay curled up and silent.

"Maybe his essence is no longer there?" Vaan offered quiet words from outside of the small room, looking down at the pair with apology in his honeycomb eyes.

Refusing to answer, Kreh'te pulled out his scanner and played with the dial until the settings were changed. Holding the machine over Wikus still form, he waited for the readings to come back and tell him there was no longer any of the human left -- that this body was merely an empty shell. The scanner chimed its analysis was complete and the form jumped a little before curling into itself tighter. Kreh'te frowned and looked at the screen. There were little physical injuries on the Poleepkwa beyond missing tissue throughout his body. The worst remaining was Wikus left arm which had been cracked and broken some time ago, never to be set properly. The limb had healed wrong and must be painful to move. The same had happened to his secondary arms, though the pain would be a great deal less.

Wikus was fine, at least physically fine. His mind is what Kreh'te feared for. He had seen what the MNU capable of and for anyone to endure that in concentration and in solitude for three years...residual damage is to be expected. He must check to see if anything permanent had been forced upon his friend, check to see if the 'experimentation' that the MNU had done could be reversed.

Looking back to where the soldier stood, he began to say something, but was cut off by Vaan before he could. "Go on. If anything happens, we will be here to defend. Check and see if your human is alright." he urged.

Kreh'te nodded and carefully rolled Wikus over. The Poleepkwa held his position -- arms holding long legs. It did not matter. He could see Wikus face now as his friend stared sightlessly ahead with the strangest set of eyes Kreh'te had ever seen. The change had been complete, but the original human-blue pigment remained in Wikus right eye, giving him a strange and foreign appearance.

Moving down so that his antenna were brushing Wikus' head, he proceeded slowly so that they settled against the smaller Poleepkwa's own before quickly twining the pair together---

It was like a bright flash of pure pain dappled with images that could only associate with what he was feeling. Flashes of the MNU, the doctors, flashes of humiliation and hoplessness. He saw everything, felt everything and had to pull back quickly before his system was overwhelmed by the pain and he went into shock. Kreh'te withdrew and fell backwards onto the hard floor, heart pounding. The MNU had taken its toll on the poor human, had done more than just harmed his physical form. But, there was a fire still burning deep within that they could not extinguish.

Vaan helped him up and Christopher turned to the Stratiotians, eyes still trained on Wikus. "He was greatly harmed by the humans, but I do not believe it is permanent." He had to say the words to believe them himself. But as he did, Kreh'te remembered the soft glow of Wikus' soul and was certain that he had spoken the truth. "There are minor injuries that need to be looked at still, though, and I cannot proceed much further without my equipment on the ship."

Making a move towards Wikus, intending to pick him up, Vaan stepped into the White room and up to the smaller creature. As though suddenly aware, Wikus let out a pained chirp, and scrambled backwards. Pressed against the dirty wall, Wikus' gaze lost some of its glaze and he searched the room wildly, fear clear and present in his strange eyes. He saw the Stratiotian and cried out once more, shielding his face and curling back into himself as if expecting the larger alien to hurt him.

Stepping in front of the soldier, he ushered Vaan to move backward and out of sight of the little room. He did and took his first and second along with him.

Moving back down to a crouch, Kreh'te reached out to touch his friend on the shoulder. The small Poleepkwa shivered and did not look up.

"Wikus," he moved so that his hand rested on top of Wikus, gently prying the shielding grip that he had created with his arms. "Wikus you do not have to be afraid."

Peaking through his arms, Wikus met the other's gaze, eyes still wide with fear. As if awareness had suddenly dawned on him, his arms grip loosened and dropped to his sides, hanging limply on the floor. He stared at the other alien for a long moment, studying the other intently as if trying to place him. For his part, Kreh'te remained silent but neither did he move his claw from its place atop Wikus own.

"Ch-risstophe--er," he finally murmured, eyes growing even wider. "Cam ba-aack." Wikus sounded awestruck as though he was speaking to the ghost of a hope, uncertainty clear even through his mangled words.

Tightening his grip on Wikus hand, Kreh'te moved closer, speaking in a hushed voice, "I said that I would return, Wikus. I came back as I said I would." Wikus suddenly withdrew, pushing against the wall again as though attempting to meld into it. When Kreh'te moved forward, Wikus let loose a soft, keening sound and shielding his eyes once more.

"No-ot reeel! No-t reel!" he shouted again and again, batting the air to rid it of the illusion of hope. When his claw hit Kreh'te's shell suddenly Wikus stopped completely, staring ahead, eyes on a fixed point. "No," he gasped, moving so that his claw was on Kreh'te's neck, settled in the soft unsegmented section, feeling the warm rise and fall of the other's breath. He moved again, touching. "Caa-t be reeel." his voice hitched and Wikus nearly withdrew again.

Feeling the rise of fear, Kreh'te did not wait for it to spill over and grasped the younger alien's arm, pulling him close so that their forms met. Wikus struggled, weakly twisting to get free. "I came back for you Wikus. I am real." he purred and did not let go, "It is over now."

The struggling ceased completely and Wikus lay limply in Kreh'te's lap, breathing deeply, holding tight to the larger form. Kreh'te continued purring softly as he held the form of his friend, making sure to be as still as possible. He heard Vaan behind him, moving quietly as possible. Wikus did not stir at the sound of the soldier in the small room, nor when the form he held so desperately onto moved to look towards the figure in the doorway.

"Your convoy ship is leaving soon." Vaan sounded urgent, "If you do not leave now, you will be forced to stay here for the duration of delegations."

Kreh'te nodded, looking down at the limp form. Vaan seemed to understand his hesitation "It would be wise to give something to calm him or to make him sleep until you can complete the medical procedures you said that he needed." Vaan held out his supply pack.

Uneasy about doing so, Kreh'te looked back at Wikus' slightly quivering form. He could not imagine taking him through the MNU facility and onto his shuttle. It was unlikely as well that Wikus would remain calm during the procedures he needed to undergo to heal his arm or the small internal puncture wounds. Kreh'te continued to purr even as he reached for Vaan's bag and took from it a vial of medication that was used in the field to sooth pain and make injured soldiers loose conscious for a lengthy period.

Holding the vial against Wikus' neck, he waited for the small Poleepkwa to inhale enough of the drug before he was certain of his conscious state. Placing the vial back into Vaan's pack, he handed it back to the soldier and stood, cradling Wikus close to him. 

**ii.**

The walk back to the ship was shorter than their journey into the bowls of the MNU building, and when Kreh'te finally stepped out, into the faint afternoon light, he realized what must have been happening above. He held Wikus closer, shielding the small form, careful not to jostle his broken form as they made for the convoy ship. Before he could get very far, though, coming to a wall of the red-shelled soldiers creating a barricade to the ship. Kreh'te was ushered in another direction by one of the soldiers, told to move away. Giving his ID, the Poleepkwa reluctantly let him pass, but had to nonetheless.

A group of the human guards, black clad and bearing the MNU sigil, lay in the centre of the circle, limp bodies riddled with wounds from both the Stratiotian and their own weapons. Marking the middle of the carnage, an older man who did not look as though he belonged was slumped half-over, blood seeping from his mouth. A bullet hole in his head looked unbelievably deep from the shadow of blood. Kreh'te had seen that man in Wikus mind -- his leering face bright with cruelty and pride.

A hand was on Kreh'te's shoulder and, startled, the scientist turned too quickly, making Wikus' head lull limp and out of control. His teacher motioned for him to follow out of the circle and quickly to the convoy. Rhem did not look him in the eye, but stared at Wikus a long moment before settling his eyes back on the dead humans as they passed.

"They came out of their offices across the street right before we started to search there. It was all of these men defending one. He was the head of all of this. He was their leader." Rhem explained without question asked, eyes focused on the crumpled body. "We found him attempting to flee, surrounded by humans with guns. One of our Stratiotian was killed before we finally got to him.

"The Thely wanted him brought to her, but the man shot himself when he realized that and we cannot revive him, his DNA is too different. It seems that we will have to complete our delegations with another organization, though I do not feel as though it means as much. I for one just want these buildings destroyed and nothing more to do with the planet!" his teacher's voice was drawn tight and he seemed to be holding something back as he stared at Wikus. When he finally spoke, clicks were a beat too quick. "He is one of them, human."

Kreh'te slipped finally through the soldiers once more and to the entrance of the ship before even looking at Rhem again. "The situation is different, he is not like them." his voice was instant, motioning towards where the dead MNU guards lay, "If you do not believe me, ask one of the soldiers to take you down into their 'doctor's' facilities. He was there for three years being treated like an animal--worse than the slums I was placed within."

"So what, you plan on taking him with you? That does not seem wise--"

"I plan on nothing!" Kreh'te spat angrily, before composing himself and clicking softer once more, "It is his choice alone to make whether he will come or stay. As I have told you before: the cure has been made and if he wishes to take that, it will work flawlessly. Otherwise, you know as well as I do he is welcome into the colony. I spoke to our elders about the possibility of that three years ago."

"Cure." he said in wonderment, "As though this is a disease?"

Shaking his head, Kreh'te pressed the sequence that would open the hatch. "It is not, but I will still call it a cure and you understand exactly why. Do not try avoiding what we were speaking of before: Wikus allowed for all of this, made it possible for me to bring word back home. He is a hero."

Rhem didn't look convinced, but stepped away as the ship's ramp lowered nonetheless, allowing Kreh'te to move onto it. "I am not so certain. From what you have said, if he had not interfered, there is a very likely probability that you would have gotten back to give word your with your mate still alive. It seems to me that this 'human' is not the asset that you speak of but a being acting out of mere self preservation and fear."

"If that was the case, he would have come with me to the ship instead of sacrificing himself to these monsters." Kreh'te clicked sharply, stepped into the vessel and let the doors close. "He is a hero." There was no formal farewell leaving his adamant words unanswered.

Kreh'te gave his Ensign orders to head back to the main ship and sat back in his chair, holding Wikus in his lap. The small form qivered slightly as though it were aware of their sudden lift-off before settling back into stillness. Kreh'te ran his hand along Wikus' face, allowing it to linger where cracks played in the green surface. He needed to get him fixed quickly or these wound would scar as well. He needed to get the physical taken care of before he could even think of fixing what the MNU had broken on the inside.

Wikus stirred again, chirping quietly in distress. Pulling his friend into a tighter embrace, Kreh'te began to purr softly, a song he used to sing his son when sleep would not come. It was a near silent lullaby that made his chest vibrate, comforting with sound and with touch. Wikus moved into his embrace, held onto the larger Poleepkwa and began to purr along with Kreh'te.

**Notes**: Ranks that have been mentioned so far (in order from lowest to highest rank):  
_Stratiotian_: the larger Poleepkwa with crimson carapace and developed secondary arms. These are the soldiers/devenders of the Hive. :  
_Entite_: have the same appearance as the aliens who were on earth (indeed some of the aliens were Entite's), but have move developed mental functions (_Ensign_ is the "trainee" version of this rank)  
_Theyl_: for a lack of better terminology -- "Queen". There are, though multiple Theyl ranked Poleepkwa. The High-Theyl is the leader of the hive, while others are ranked based on age and position to succeeding the title of High-Theyl.

I do as well want to know if anyone would like me to make a post dedicated to terminology, cultural systems, etc. to be updated as the fanfiction is.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title**: Beautifully Broken  
**Author**: E.E. Kelley  
**Summary**: Without Christopher to keep him hidden, Wikus was quickly found by the MNU and forced back into captivity. The transformation too far along, there was little the officers could do but allow it to complete itself. Yet, even after he has become fully Prawn, they keep him around, determined to use his existence to find a way to use the alien weaponry. When Christopher returns in three years time, he returns to find the shell of the man he left. Will he be able to fix him before leaving with his people once more or will he have to take the broken soul with him?  
**Rating**: R+  
**Pairings**: Christopher/Wikus + CJ adorableness

**A/N: **So I've been on a massive hiatus with this fic due to school, but with the semester ending at he end of this week, I'll be updating this fic once more. Yes, it was just posted on for the first time in bunk, and I'm sorry (it's been sitting along on my livejournal and some lj communities since December). New Chapters again up on a regular basis! So sorry for not announcing the impromptu hiatus -- I have not intention of leaving this a WIP (I Promise). Updates should be 1 to 3 a week depending on my calendar. This fic is plotted for one book (which spans approximately 15-20 chapters depending) and then I'm planning on one to two more arches following this.

Here: Have a Wikus POV chapter! Apologies for the lack of action -- what can I say he's pretty much 'out of commission' after dealing with all that MNU-shite!

Currently looking for a beta who would be willing to also go through some of the previously posted chapters -- as it has been pointed out my tense mistakes are pretty wretched. E-Mail me if you're interested; contact is listed on my main User Profile. 

**Chapter Seven**

i.

Wikus lay where he woke for a long while, not wanting to open his eyes, not quite sure of the silence. He was warm for the first time in...he couldn't remember how long. It wasn't the fevered warmth that wracked his body after a few of the doctors injections, but a splendid heat that seemed to cover him up and simmered through his frame. Wikus lay in that half delirium of comfort, hanging on to the foggy sleep for as long as he could. He didn't want to have to wake up, to have to face the reality of where he was and what he was. But, he could only grasp at sleep so long and after awhile found himself slipping from unconsciousness back into stark reality.

Still, Wikus refused to open his eyes. He knew this had to be a dream, but he could pretend. Curling up into a ball, hiding his in a fetal position, Wikus noticed for the first time that he wasn't on the bare floor of his cell but instead surrounded by papery sheets and soft objects. And there was a new strangeness he couldn't identify either -- no stench of blood, no hum of cheap lighting, but an earthy scent that he couldn't recall but neither could bring himself to dislike.

When finally he drew up the courage to slit open his eyes, Wikus was met with darkness. Chirping in distress, he began to panic -- this had to be some new trick, a test that the scientists had designed for him. Struggling against the pile of softness that lay all around him, sending out little calls of distress, Wikus fell from the little alcove he had been in and onto a cold, metal floor. He made a pathetic attempt to get to his feet, but faltered, tripping against some unseen object. Hitting the ground hard, Wikus heard his shell crack and the scent of blood was back along with him on the cold ground.

That was what he was used to, what he deserved. Curling up again, Wikus lay on the cold floor and tried to keep from crying out again. Whenever he made too much noise the scientists and doctors took it as some sign that they needed to preform more tests. So, keeping perfectly quiet, Wikus began to shake. 

ii

There was a sound like compressed air being released and the sound of someone entering the dark room. Wikus squeezed his eyes closed and tried to appear very small. When the lights came on, he saw the shadows play behind his eyelids and the shape of a dark figure coming closer to him.

"Wikus?"

It was the sound of his name made up of clicks and chirps that a human could never manage. For a moment, he thought that they had brought back the black prawn as they had every so often. But, the huge alien had never spoken his name, only uttered guttural commands. No, this had to be some new trick.

"You fell." clicked an unseen voice sounded startled and there was a rush of feet before hands were grasping him through soft cloth and hefting him up. Wikus struggled a moment before he realized this was something different -- not one of the scientists tricks. He remembered Christopher and was suddenly struggling for a different reason, trying to get free of the tangle of blankets so that he could see. Moving too quickly, Wikus head broke free of the sheets but one of his antenna was caught in the mess and jerked as he moved too fast. Making a tiny noise of distress, Wikus instantly had Christopher gently freeing the caught appendage for him. When that was free, Wikus just stared ahead, almost blankly, not quite sure that what he was seeing was indeed correct.

The room was circular and seemed to be made up of steel that shone light brown, looking almost earthy. A few pieces of what could be considered furnishings was centred in the room -- a high-set table, what appeared to be a set of chairs though they were unlike any Wikus had before seen. A double set of moniters leaked blue light from the other side of the room, looking very much like the computers Christopher had kept below his shack. In the area Wikus was there was what appeared to be a raised part of the floor -- at least four feet up off the ground. Wikus realized he had fallen from that alcove and something like a bed must be there, raised above him.

A sharp click drew his attention and he realized Christopher was still holding onto him. The larger alien withdrew when he saw Wikus staring, letting the smaller creature lean against the wall of the sleeping area.

Christopher knelt in front of his fallen form, umber eyes wide with concern. The alien looked very different now, held more of a presence. Shell cleaned of all grime the District had stained it, Christopher's carapace glistened dark green, forest green like an evergreen tree. He no longer bore the tattered vest but a longer, obviously fitted, scarlet garment that clung around his neck and primary arms but lay open in the centre so that the vestial limbs were free to move and work as they pleased. It hung down past Christopher's hips looking very much like a cloak. A sigil was (embroidered) on the high neck of this vest, one of the gang markings that Wikus remembered and that was obviously not the crest of a criminal as MNU operatives were led to believe. When Christopher turned to check Wikus sprawled legs for injury. the same image could be seen - much larger - on display on his back. Pants that had somehow engineered to fit the aliens unique anatomy were a dark mustard-yellow and clung thin legs about half way down the limb.

All in all Christopher looked like Christopher but so very different. He looked more like the creature that Wikus realized he had been before District 9.

"Are you injured in any way, Wikus." Christopher continued to check him and when his hand came to the tiny crack on the back of Wikus neck he clicked in agitation. The sound and sudden change in Christopher's pheromones made Wikus shrink back. Christopher realized his mistake and got control of his emotions. "I need to treat the injury and you will need to rest more." He said, softer now.

Wikus nodded, not trusting himself to speak -- not entirely certain he could manage words even if he wanted to.

Christopher helped him back into the nest of blankets before settling on the alcove it was placed upon, looking down at Wikus with a questioning gaze. He just watched for a long moment, but eventually the silence diverged.

"Wikus, I need to talk to you about what is going to happen now." Wikus continued to keep his gaze turned downlward. "I promised to have a cure for you in three years, and it is complete now. You are free to take the medication whenever you wish."

Wikus couldn't help it any longer and the desperation he had swallowed broke free in the form of tiny chirps, coming like tears. He was so confused, didn't know what he was doing anymore, didn't know what he was anymore. Wikus held himself and tried to control the pathetic sounds he was making before Christopher just up and left. He didn't want to be alone again, but nothing made sense right now. All Wikus knew is that he didn't want Christopher to leave. When the alien finally put a warm hand on Wikus shoulder that was all it took for the damn to break. Wikus let himself sob as he hadn't since seeing Tania two years before.

To his surprise, the single warm hand turned into a a set of arms, holding him as he cried. Wikus fell forward into those arms and wept for everything: what he had lost, what he had been, what he had become. But most of all, Wikus wept for fear and for frustration. He wasn't sure of anything anymore. Here he was, crying in the arms of an alien -- a monster for all extensive purpose -- because of what had happened to him, what men he knew -- humans -- had done to him.

When secondary arms came to hold him as well, Wikus expected to feel disgust at the tiny limbs touch, but instead he leaned into the touch unntil they were holding tight around his neck. Wikus felt his own vestial arms moving towards Christopher. He forced them back, though, unsure of their existance, not certain of what to make of them.

Slowly, Christopher eased away and Wikus was left sitting in the nest, arms around himself, staring at the blankets. They were strange, looking too natural to be even woven but neither were they animal skin. He touched the edge of one and realized that they had been crafted somehow and could tell that there was some extensive difference to any he had seen before, but he couldn't place what it was.

He was drawn away from his attempted distraction by a sharp click. Wikus looked up and saw that Christopher was once more seated outside of the nest, watching Wikus closly.

"You do not have to choose anything right now, Wikus. All you need to do is rest. At the moment, you do not have to make any decision on what you will do."

Wikus was genuinely confused, "C'oosse?" the word came out a garbled hiss and he wasn't entierly sure that Christopher had understood him. Wikus looked down at the blankets, unable to meet the aliens gaze. When finally he dared to glance back up, Christopher was looking at him with a serious expression in his eyes.

"Whether or not you wish to take the cure or to stay as you are."

Wikus made a noise of shock, "Wh-at, yoou mea'n..."

Christopher nodded, "I spoke with our leaders when I returned and you would be welcomed to accompany us back to the planet. You would be expected to speak with the elders as well as to be educated in our ways, but beyond that you would be expected to do nothing else. Otherwise, I am able to turn you back into your former self without any lasting side effects before the ship leaves."

Lasting side effects...Wikus almost snorted at the thought. He wanted there to be no harm no foul, for him to return to his life before and everything he left behind. But, the strange part of it all was that deep down he wasn't sure he even wanted that anymore, not that he had the choice. Tania had given up on him completely; half of humanity thought he was a terrorist who had betrayed his own race. What did he have left here anyway? Did he even have a choice?

Instead of voicing any of this, Wikus just shook his head and tried to make it appear that he understood. Christopher just waited until Wikus met his gaze once more.

"The offer is still standing -- you are permitted to change your decision at any time during the next," Christopher paused, thinking and converting, "three Terran weeks as negotiations are completed. We shall remain on the planet until then."

Wikus chirped in understanding, embarrassed at his lack of voice but more embarrassed at the poorly formed words that he barely made.

"For the time, I suggest that you rest within my quarters. I can provide you with any reading material that you wish, but I would prefer for you to recover from your injuries before going anywhere else on the ship -- at least for the next few days. Is that acceptable?"

Wikus nodded, but sensed that wasn't enough. Christopher remained crouched next to him, staring as though he expected something else from Wikus.

"Y-ees."he finally managed.

Christopher cocked his head, "Would you have any preference in what I bring you for entertainment, Wikus? I can provide PADD's of most anything. I would permit you to access the main database through my computer, but I am unsure of your capabilities with our technology."

Wikus thought a moment before struggling to speak, "Laang'uags books?" he looked down and then up again, "Ca'n't talk."

Standing up so quickly he almost startled Wikus, Christopher gave indication that he understood and left Wikus to warmth and silence. 

iii.

Wikus had since settled in the sleeping alcove, surprisingly comfortable in the raised nest. Christopher returned before he drifted off with a pile of digital tablets and Wikus began working through them. Unlike a book, the PADDS acted as a soft or miniature computer, capable of playing both audio and holographic video recordings. As he had asked for, Christopher brought language documents which Wikus focused entirely upon. Carefully forming each sound, he practiced the words demonstrated for him with complete (focus).

He would drift off as well, sleeping soundly without realizing he had drifted. The third time this happened, Wikus woke with a start, calling out as he jolted wildly up, crying out with quick chirps. When he heard the doors open, Wikus went silent, remaining burrowed beneath the synthetic blankets.

Clicks echoed like a dogs nails as something moved across the room and towards where Wikus lay. The scent was a new one, one he wasn't familiar with. Not Christopher.

For a long moment, there was no sound but that of the buzzing air purifier and his own soft whimper. If he had been able, Wikus would have held his breath. Instead, Wikus held absolutely still, ridged. He played dead, face pressed against his arms, holding a shiver back.

There was a sharp click that Wikus didn't understand followed by sounds of movement. Only when (something) pried at the (bed) with a rough touch did Wikus release his stifled cry.

He squirmed, tangling himself further as he moved to the corner of the sleeping alcove.

"Wait!" the voice chirped, "I was told to bring you nourishment!" the foreign voice called out.

Wikus wheezed, but no matter how he tried, his mind would not stop. He could hear the other speaking and scented the somewhat familiar tang he registered as a prawn, but his mind had raced back to the white laboratories and faceless doctors.

"Calm down, I came from the main bridge under Kreh'te's direct order! I have something for you to eat. I am not here to harm you!"

Wikus stopped struggling but continued his whimper. He wanted to pul the blanket back, to trust whoever was talking, but images of soldiers and scientists and a looming black figure kept him hidden.

"I will leave the food, then."

There was the sound of a door once more and then silence. When Wikus was certain he was alone, he released the sob and hugged his body, trying to keep images from coming again. They would not be held at bay and flashes sped through him, wracking him. Wikus didn't move, just lay in the nest and was ashamed at his own fear. When finally he fell back into sleep, the food was still untouched and desperate fear in the forefront of his mind.

He didn't want this.  
**  
**  
**Other**: My anatomical interpretation to how the aliens breath is similar to how most 'bugs' do, btw.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title**: Beautifully Broken

**Author**: E.E. Kelley (topsell)

**Summary**: Without Christopher to keep him hidden, Wikus was quickly found by the MNU and forced back into captivity. The transformation too far along, there was little the officers could do but allow it to complete itself. Yet, even after he has become fully Prawn, they keep him around, determined to use his existence to find a way to use the alien weaponry. When Christopher returns in three years time, he returns to find the shell of the man he left. Will he be able to fix him before leaving with his people once more or will he have to take the broken soul with him?

**Rating**: R+

**Pairings**: Christopher/Wikus + CJ adorableness

**A/N**: I am horrible for leaving you all hanging for so long! New chapters coming at more regular intervals. Your reviews do keep me accountable, knowing that there are people waiting! Once more: Suggestions are LOVE! If you have any ideas or want to see something small implemented into the fic, I'll try my hardest to fit it in!

I'm REALLY displeased with this chapter! Hopefully the next few will be better.

**Chapter Eight**

**i.**

Kreh'te finished his session, checking ship diagnostics, double checking what his young Entite's had plotted so far for their joinery home. But all through his work, he couldn't truly concentrate. The back of his mind was a buzzing, almost as if someone had invaded him. He could sense Wikus and that was a startling thought. A potential bonding was very rare between all but the most intimate of mates. Even then, the creation of such a link was difficult to confirm. Yet, Kreh'te was nearly convinced that the sensation was at least a miniature version of such. Incomplete, but still very much real.

Ordering Xa'In to finish checking the diagnostic sheets, Kreh'te hurried back towards his quarter, not paying attention to where he was going. He nearly barreled over Rhem, who was standing in front of his door, expression stern. Kreh'te huffed angrily, but said nothing, only stood in front of his old teacher, waiting for him to move. Which he did not.

"You are blocking my path. Is there something I can do for you?" he finally tried, keeping his voice even, trying to control the nervous clack that sometimes came to the end of every word when he was agitated.

Rhem nodded, but said nothing otherwise, just appraised Kreh'te as though he was once more a child.

"Would you move, _please_, teacher?" he kept his tone under control, though it was threatening to be undone. Kreh'te had barely kept himself from scurrying back to his quarters during his shift, and now that it was over, the buzz at the back of his mind was becoming unbearable. His antenna twitched, a nervous tick that he had always hated. It gave away his emotion, let known that he wasn't as controlled as he attempted to be.

Rhem cocked his head, finally speaking. "I have heard that you sent for language PADS. Your reas-"

"Wikus was kept in near confinement for over three years. He is developmentally perfect, but language is not something innate to _any_ species - including our own. He is unable to properly communicate." Kre'hte spat, not letting his teacher finish. He didn't have time for this.

Rhem looked taken aback, but quickly caught himself, face switching to a curt smirk. "And you have not decided to merely (meld) with him?"

"That would not be wise."

"If he were any other Poleepkwa, would you have not merely initiated a meld so that the information could directly be transfered? You forget I have been around your _friend_, and know that he is of the same rank as you, Kreh'te." Rhem scolded. "What is it that holds you back? Is it that you are not yourself certain that his human mind isn't still in control? Is it that-"

Kreh'te leapt forward, a fire behind his eyes. Taking the elder by his shoulders, he moved Rhem aside and unlocked the door. His teacher began to speak again, but Kreh'te cut him off, growling low and feral. "You will not speak of him again like that. You know very little about the current situation and have no right to interfere. You are my teacher still, and I will respect your wishes when it comes to advice on matters of the academic nature. But this-" Kreh'te caught himself, caught his voice as it began to rise along with the low growl. He continued in an even tone, staring down Rhem with eyes dark and cold, "This is not your problem."

"It is you who will _not_ speak in such-"

"Wikus is no longer human and little if anything remains of that human mind. I have touched it once before. Leave. You have no right part in this. You will not interfere with Wikus."

The door slid shut with a whir and Kreh'te stood for a moment, staring at the smooth, brown surface, letting his heart settle. To defy a teacher was a bold move indeed. To defy a teacher for the sake of an outsider was unheard of. And yet, he did not see Wikus as an outsider. Not anymore. When he caught his breath and the beat of his heart, Kreh'te figured it was time to place these events in the back of his mind, to deal with more immediate situations. Even then, the buzz at the back of his mind would not quiet.

Kre'hte saw the food he had ordered his Entite to bring Wikus hours before untouched on the table. He had expected as much. Only because his presence was necessary kept Kreh'te from spending the entire duration of this pause in their journey at Wikus' side. The trembling form amiss blankets and scattered data PADS made Kreh'te wish he had...

"Wikus," he cooed, so soft it sounded like a purr.

Something beneath the blankets moved, but only for a moment. Soon, there was only the sound of the whirring air filter filling the silence and absolute stillness on the sleeping alcove. Kreh'te stepped forward, placing his data pad and pack on the middle table and moving to the edge of the bedding. He moved one of the stay PADS from the edge of the alcove to the floor, afraid that it would slip and fall, damaging the technology in the process. Reaching for a second, a hand shot out of the bedding, latching around Kreh'te's wrist in an unsteady, trembling grip...but only for a second. The hand released Kreh'te and went to slither back beneath the blankets.

Kreh'te caught the hand, gentle but firm, and reached to find the rest of Wikus hidden within the nest. Moving away the fabric, Kreh'te finally found the trembling form of Wikus, curled in on himself as though trying to be as small as possible. The smaller Poleepkwa looked up at him, mismatched eyes alive with fear.

"Chriss-" he drew, word muffled with unneeded clicks and chatter. It was as though Wikus had only partial control of his new mouth.

Kreh'te nodded and maneuvered himself so that he was seated next to Wikus in the nest before he said anything. "I am sorry for being absent so long." he apologized, trying to appear as sincere as he felt for leaving an injured friend alone for so long, "It will not happen again. I have rescheduled my shifts so that I will have more spread out but shorter periods where I am gone. You should-"

"He's right." Wikus said, words unbroken.

Kreh'te stared at him, not knowing what to make of the phrase.

"Wikus, I do not know what you mean-"

"Himm. Be'efor." He drew, motioning to the door with his claw, the one still marred from injury. "I'm. Not. Worth. It." The words were separate but whole, said with such strength and sincerity that Kreh'te for a moment could say nothing in reply.

"You do not mean that Wikus!" he nearly shouted, suddenly close to hysteria. The sensation that was coming off the other in waves was unbearable. He felt it in part at the very back of his mind, evidence that there was something growing between him and the younger Poleepkwa.

Wikus shrugged, looked as though he were trying to blend in with the nest, head hunched low, legs bent twice and pressed against his chest. He fiddled nervously with the seam of a piece of cloth, stared at it with absolute focus as though it were the most interesting thing on this planet. Kreh'te reached over, taking the blanket gently from beneath Wikus' fingers. He moved his hand, maneuvering Wikus' head so that it was turned up, so that he had no choice but to stare at the other Poleepkwa.

"He was not correct, Wikus." Kreh'te said with absolute sincerity, keeping eye contact. Wikus tried to look away, but when his head was held firm and only silence remained, he looked back up at the other alien.

Antenna pressed flat against his head, Wikus opened his mouth to say something but, as though deciding against it suddenly, closed it again without a word.

"Stop iit!" He ground out suddenly, trying to shake away the hand, Wikus refused to look back up. "Do'nt lie!"

"I am not lying Wikus! He was not correct and I am certain of it! You have to understand that -"

Wikus pushed him away, the full force of it, sudden and surprising, knocking Kreh'te from the nest. He toppled from the alcove and onto the floor, pulling a blanket with him. Before he could stand back up, though, Wikus had dropped down from the nest and was on the floor next to him. Wikus was making a soft trilling noise, the sound of a sob.

"Didn't mean to! Soory. Soory!" he cried out, voice muffled further by the sound of his own crying. He reached out, as though ready to check Kreh'te over for injury, but caught himself and pulled back before his hand touched anything but air. Looking up, Wikus saw a pair of golden eyes staring back and scurried away backwards, hands before feet until he was a short distance from the other alien, against the curved wall. Bending both joints in his legs, Wikus brought them up to his head and hid his face, covering his head with his arms, trilling still.

Kreh'te sat there for a moment, unsure of what to do. After a moment, though, he moved the short distance and sat right in front of the Poleepkwa, battling with himself, unsure of whether or not to act on his hunch. When the smaller realized his presence, Kreh'te waited no longer.

Moving Wikus' arms out of the way, he moved limbs away until the smaller aliens head was visible. Taking that head within his hands, Kreh'te brushed antenna up, moving them first with his fingers and then with his own antenna, careful of the sensitive appendages. Wikus cried out when he realized the intrusion, but Kreh'te gave a short sound, like the purring of a cat, and Wikus calmed, moving in a little to the touch. Wrapping his own antenna around the other aliens', Kreh'te moved closer, slow enough so no to spook the already frightened Poleepkwa. He softly stroked Wikus' antenna with his own and with a free hand, moving up and down the wispy things, comforting Wikus. Only when the smaller set of antenna touched did Wikus give a startled chirp. Kreh'te hushed him once more, rubbing the back of Wikus' head, knowing that if he couldn't keep the other Poleepkwa calm, this would be an impossible process.

Kreh'te moved intimately closer, allowing the smaller set of antenna to touch, to move against one another. And suddenly, he was flooded with a visceral light, a sensation that snapped him back into reality all over again. Wikus' mind and his touched, this time while both were conscious.

He heard Wikus cry out, but the sound was distant, as though in another reality. Kreh'te worked quickly, trying to keep himself focused, to keep himself from getting lost in the others mind. He found the knowledge in his own mind and transposed it, allowed it to shift from one to the other, falling into place in the other aliens' mind.

He tried to work as quickly as possible, to ignore his own, pleasure-filled purr, but it was hard to. And when he was finished with his task, it took all Kreh'te's strength to keep from tallying in the meld. He stayed just long enough to witness the white hot pulse of a bond between the two of them. The link was still very small, and could potentially be severed by a professional, but Kreh'te only acknowledged the growing bond and slipped from Wikus mind.

**ii.**

When he came back to, Kreh'te had slumped against the wall, pinning Wikus who was still unconscious. The smaller Poleepkwa was not awake, but for once did not look pained or troubled. Kreh'te let himself stay like that, cherishing the others presence for reasons he could not understand. He had done it, had proven his teacher wrong. But, was it a wise decision? Should he have allowed that tiny bond to grow further without Wikus' knowledge? Shouldn't he have lain out what was going on so that the younger male could make his own decision?

He had transfered language, but with the meld the bond strengthened. With too many melds, it would be unbreakable.

Wikus stirred a little, reaching out as if to grasp at something. When his claw met Kreh'te's shell, it seemed to settle, to press lightly against the smooth surface in a comforting gesture. Kreh'te took the claw in his own, and Wikus released a soft purr, squeezing the other hand and moving towards the warmth.

Picking Wikus up, Kreh'te held him close to his chest, making sure that his movements were steady. When he placed the smaller alien on the sleeping alcove, Wikus was still holding tight to his hand. After a half-hearted struggle to shake off the grip, Kreh'te mearly sighed and crawled into the nest as well. Sitting on the far side, he leaned against the wall, letting Wikus settle and sleep.

Kreh'te was himself nearly lost to sleep when he felt Wikus climb towards him, and settle into the others lap, nestled into the warmth with their hands still laced together. Kreh'te smiled and couldn't help but purr as he drifted off.

**I DID WANT TO ASK: DO YOU PREFER SHORTER MORE FREQUENT CHAPTERS OR LONGER WORD COUNT WITH A LONGER WAIT IN BETWEEN?**

Tell me via comments. I'll take it into account!

I apologize for Wikus' horrible speaking capabilities. Yes, it bothered me too. Yes, it's supposed to be bothersome. But isn't it a relief that it's over and done with now?


	9. Chapter 9

**Title**: Beautifully Broken

**Author**: E.E. Kelley (topsell)

**Summary**: Without Christopher to keep him hidden, Wikus was quickly found by the MNU and forced back into captivity. The transformation too far along, there was little the officers could do but allow it to complete itself. Yet, even after he has become fully Prawn, they keep him around, determined to use his existence to find a way to use the alien weaponry. When Christopher returns in three years time, he returns to find the shell of the man he left. Will he be able to fix him before leaving with his people once more or will he have to take the broken soul with him?

**Rating**: R+

**Pairings**: Christopher/Wikus + CJ adorableness

**A/N**: Looking for a Beat Reader:: I had a few people mail me awhile back, but wanted to know if the offer still stands. E-mail me at if you're interested. I need someone who is willing to edit past chapters as well - since they are in grave need of such. Beta should be quick-ish, as I would like to only wait a couple days for edits so I'm not holding readers up any longer than I already do.

From what I got in responses, I'll be doing less frequent chapters which are longer. If you wanted shorter and more frequent, I might potentially change this based on more responses. I'll assume I can get out weekly chapters at this length for another month or so. Then it might be a little less frequent since University starts up again. LONG chapter is **L O N G **!

**Chapter Nine**

i.

His sleep was undisturbed for once - Wikus found solace in the depths of his own mind. For once, the darkness offered a sort of comfort. It seemed to wrap itself around him, seemed to cover him with a soft glow that appeared from the shadows, illuminating him, beating like a second heart. He wasn't alone for once, and while that should have scared him, the thought of having someone beside him in the depths of his own, frightening mind, made it a little easier to bear the fear that held him in its grip still.

Wikus roused slowly, not wanting to break the hold sleep had on him. Sighing, he allowed himself to come to, allowed himself to feel the strange warmth that he was so unused to. He was vibrating, comforted by the soft hum that surrounded him. Wikus was swaddled in the blankets, wrapped so tight that it seems to hold him. Someone held him, someone had one arm wrapped around his back and another gripped his hand tightly. Wikus' eyes snapped open. He saw only glistening green, the shimmer of another prawn's chest plates and the soft spot where vestal arms broke that smooth surface.

Without thinking, Wikus scrambled away, still tangled in the blankets. He fell on his back, confined within the alcove, and hit the back of his head against the edge of the nest. The sudden movement and sharp cry woke the other prawn, who moved across the nest, trying to quiet Wikus.

_Christopher. It's Christopher. _

That made Wikus stop struggling, but only a little. Why was Christopher in bed with him? Why were his arms wrapped around Wikus! His mind screamed and Wikus scrambled to right himself before Christopher could help him.

Holding out his arms as if to ward the other away, Wikus didn't even bother speaking, just stared straight ahead and full of fear.

"Wikus," Christopher reaced out as well, placing his hand on Wikus arm and slowly lowering the raised appendage Wikus allowed him, but continues to stare at the other alien warily. "You remember where you are, correct? You are out of the MNU facility, you are in my quarters. Are you alright?"

"I remember that," Wikus was near hysteria, "I just don't remember why the fuck you're in the same bed as I am!" He swatted Christopher's hand away, eyes trained on the alien. "And were you just fucking purring?" He jumped up, moving

"Fucking let me go! You don't have the goddamn right to try and keep me-"

"Wikus," Christopher said, force in his voice, "_Calm_ yourself." He hadn't yelled, but from the tone in his voice, he might as well have. Wikus immediately settled back into the nest, eyes wide as though he couldn't understand. "Now I want you to explain to me what is the matter."

"I can't-" he trailed off, voice soft as though he didn't really understand, "No, no no, can't be right. I can't-"

"You should be able to speak now. I wanted to confirm what I hoped had been accomplished but you merely overreacted. Please speak to me, Wikus."

"How," Wikus said quietly, mouth open, eyes blank.

Christopher looked away, across the room and towards the doorway, almost as though he expected someone to come bursting in. "It is sometimes possible to directly transfer information from one Poleepkwa to another, though the two must be compatible on a few different levels. It seems that you are of the same rank as I am, and some," he paused, finally looking at Wikus, a strange emotion playing behind his eyes, "other criteria was as well compatible. When I came to speak with you yesterday, I seemed to have no other choice than to attempt the transfer. I had hoped to ask you," he looked away once more, eyes giving away that there was something more to why he had waited, "There might have been another Poleepkwa who was as well capable of transferring our language to you, but after what had happened, I was unsure whether or not it was wise to let more time pass. I hope are not upset."

Wikus opened his mouth slowly, as though expecting the words to come out faulty once more.

"Are you fucking kidding me! Why would I be mad about that! This is _fantastic_!" Wikus cried out, eyes alight. And then, as though suddenly brought back to reality, those mismatched eyes narrowed once more. "But that still doesn't explain to me why the hell you were in my bed...holding onto me."

"You are in my bed, Wikus." Christopher cocked his head, "I brought you to my private quarters when you first came onto the convoy ship. It is technically only here for the delegates as well as some of the navigation leaders to stay on the planets surface and re-calibrate our equipment from a point of relative stasis before we begin back to our planet once more. I am making sure that the young ones who are helping prepare equipment for the journey back are correct in their equations. Mistakes are not acceptable when it comes to traveling at a speed faster than light." Christopher sat up, straightening his back, stretching out the stiffness of being in one position for an entire rest. "There are no other available quarters on this ship, as beyond the assigned staff, every refugee and solider were brought up to the Main Ship and are waiting for departure up there."

"Oh," Wikus mumbled, still unable to take his eyes off the larger alien, "That makes sense," he said, somewhat skeptically. "I can just, you know, sleep on the floor or something until..."

Wikus trailed off. _Until what?_ He didn't know what exactly was about to happen, or where exactly he was going to end up. Hell, he didn't know whether or not he had a choice in the damn matter anymore! Whenever he thought of his sweet angel anymore, Wikus shuttered, remember the horrified look on her beautiful face as he reached out for her. Remembered the rejection she so readily gave him, condemning him further. Whenever he thought of returning 'home', he was more and more sure he didn't have one to return to...

"I can sleep on the floor." he said with more force, nodding.

"You will not!" Christopher looked aghast, "You are injured and still recovering. There is no way I will allow you to sleep on the floor when there is a large enough bed to accommodate the both of us here."

Wikus stared at him, eyes still hooded with uncertainty, "You want to what, fucking sleep in the same bed?"

"We will be heading up to the main ship shortly, so it should not be too much longer. If you do not mind, we can share the nest. Otherwise, I will be the one staying on the floor. As I said, you are injured."

Wikus gave a sharp click he had come to associate with his own anxiety, and nodded slowly. "I can deal with that."

Christopher gave a half grin and slid from the nest. Wikus jumped a little, surprised at the sudden movement.

"I need to head to my shift. I will be done shortly, as I have switched to a more frequent but less lengthy schedule for the next week." Something in Wikus told him that Christopher hadn't added the reason why he had to change his work around was because of Wikus, but nodded at the alien and watched as Christopher gathered up his pack and data pads. He slid the door open and turned back to Wikus.

"I should be no more than an...hour or so. Please attempt to rest, I will be continuing to go through my navigation files once I return, so I will allow you to continue sleeping. If you need anything, the com-link here" he motioned towards a small, singular button on the side of the door, "will give you direct access to me."

Christopher stepped out of the room, turning to stare Wikus in the eye, "You need rest, you have been through a lot, Wikus."

ii.

Wikus had to admit he didn't hate Christopher's company. Even as far as having the larger prawn climb into bed with him, Wikus really didn't mind waking up knowing that he wouldn't be alone. Christopher kept to himself, didn't push Wikus or climb next to him. What Wikus found, bothered him a little more...He was the one seeking out the physical comfort of the other, cuddling next to Christopher without even thinking about it. Most days he woke with his arms slung across Christopher's chest, head nestled in the dip of the larger alien's neck. The purr coming from his own chest always surprised him, always made him unsure that his body was still his own.

When Christopher had to leave early for his shift on the bridge, he would gently rouse Wikus and tell him when he would return. Wikus always settled in the warm indent that his friend had made, curling into the soft blankets and usually falling asleep just as quickly. He hated to admit it, but Christopher's scent, intensified by his new alien senses, comforted him when he was alone. He needed to other alien to be there, needed to know that he wasn't alone for once..

Christopher began to bring data pads back with him, giving them to Wikus after the smaller alien complained of having nothing to do. He read up on everything from the culture to the anatomy of the prawns, beginning to feel a little more at ease with what was surrounding him. Still, he couldn't be around anyone else. Christopher had tried to send someone to tell him he would be late one evening, and Wikus had reverted to the quivering mass, hidden within the confines of the nesting alcove, he had been the first time someone had invaded the private quarters. No one else had been sent for any other reason after that and Christopher had been certain to return on time.

As well, he was beginning to become more accustomed with the food he was given. Strangely shaped and not at all aesthetically pleasing, Wikus had at first been very uncomfortable putting something he could not for the life of him identify near his mouth. After he had tasted it, though, he came to the conclusion that this new food left not justice for cat food! He looked forward to mealtimes, Christopher always made sure to be there and share his meal with Wikus. The two would sit, side by side, at the strangely shaped centre table and Christopher would chat about what he had accomplished during his shift, asking Wikus with real interest what he had been reading about lately.

It was during one of these conversations that Christopher stopped completely, setting down what he had been eating and stared at Wikus with a serious expression.

"We will be leaving within the next week." that caught Wikus' attention and he almost choked on his food.

"Week?" he barely ground out.

Christopher nodded and sat up, looking more serious by the second. "Delegations with this planet's government are complete and the only preparations which remain are those which I am in charge of - checking through the navigation logs so that we can warp to our planet without fear of getting off track. Less than a week from now the main ship will be departing."

Wikus nodded, saying nothing. His mind was blank, fear in the back of it threatening to come undone.

"What I mean to say is that your decision must be made within this next week."

"What are you talking about?" Wikus mind was racing and empty all at once.

"Wikus," Christopher stared him in the eyes, focusing absolutely. "You need to decide whether or not you are going to take the cure."

Wikus just stared, not saying a word. He felt as though something were rising inside of him. He nodded, trying to shrug off the decision, and picked up the food he had been eating. He brought it to his mouth and realized that he didn't know if he could eat anything at all. He suddenly felt both empty and queasy enough to vomit. Putting the food to his mouth anyway, he chewed slowly, putting all effort into eating. Finishing, he stared blankly in front of him, making sure not to look at Christopher. He could feel the fear rising inside of him again, feel himself start to loose control.

"Wikus?" Christopher's voice sounded distant.

The dam broke. Wikus couldn't help the soft, keening sounds that came from him. He couldn't keep the clicking sobs that he was becoming far too accustomed to. He wanted to be strong, wanted to be able to take control of everything and not feel this broken. When Christopher came up next to him and put his hands on Wikus the sobs only came louder. He hated himself for this, hated loosing control.

Still, when Christopher moved in front of him, he leaned into the warm presence, letting arms envelope him. He allowed himself to be held as he sobbed, allowed the keening sound to slowly taper down as as he stayed in that solid grip. When finally they came to a halt, Christopher continued to hold him. Eventually, Wikus stood up himself, walking unsteadily towards the sleeping alcove, Christopher close beside him. He climbed into the bed and felt it dip as Christopher did as well. Without a word, both of them settled down to sleep.

Wikus woke clinging to Christopher, and didn't let go for a long while afterwards.

The two of them didn't speak about what had happened for days afterwards, and went on as though there was no impeding date. Wikus for the most part tried to pretend that things could just stay like this indefinably knowing very well that they couldn't. He refused to think of the future and how his decision effected everything.

iii.

Wikus scanned through one of the Data PADS Christopher had given him, not really reading. He found that since the strange meld, he could read the alien text as though it were his native tongue. He heard everything spoken to him differently, as well. The strange clicks and buzzing sounds which came out of his own...mouth now had depth and inflection. And his understanding of Christopher had grown ten fold. His mind not only sped up the process of understanding, but gave him understanding of emotion and verbal meanings that were before merely insectile garble. He didn't have to translate what was said to him in his head and create a voice to go along with the English variation, but instead heard Christopher's voice. He liked Christopher's voice: soft, with an accompanying hum that never failed to calm him.

But Christopher hadn't been around to speak with him very much these last few days. Besides meals and checking into the quarters every hour or so, he had been nothing short of scarce. Wikus knew why and wished he didn't.

He had been trying not to, but it was hard to keep from counting down a single week when that same countdown was for a rocket to be launched into space, more than halfway across the galaxy. A rocket he was on, no less, and one he had to decide whether or not to stay on.

In the back of his mind, he knew that there was no way he could return, that even if he could go back to the way he used to look, he wouldn't be welcome back home. He had seen Tania declare him as good as dead first person. Hell, that didn't even count the fact that he was still a declared criminal! What, did he think that after the aliens had left that everyone would just up and forget about what the hell he had been caught up in? Best case sinario was him being gaped at for the rest of his life, maybe the occasional day-time talk show declaring him a renounced traitor and victim of some alien STD.

Worst case synerio he was put away by the government again. He wouldn't be surprised if they wanted to use him to take out their frustration after the aliens had left for good.

But he didn't want to be stuck like this. Hell, did it even matter how everyone else would fucking react if he could only be rid of this body? Wikus stared down at himself, eying the gleaming carapace that covered him like armour. Did he really want to trade the odd stare of people who remembered he used to be...this to never changing back at all.

Wikus shut his eyes and leaned back into the bed, trying to clear his mind. He wanted more time. Hell, he didn't want to have to decide this at all! He wanted another week - another month!

Wikus let himself stay like that, reclined in the bed, breathing slowly as if he could exhale this problem out and away. He had started to drift off when the sound of a door opening made his heart clench.

Christopher walked quietly across the room, and Wikus listened as he seemed to gather items which had been scattered about the tables and near the computers along the far side of the room. Opening his eyes, he saw Christopher collecting items - mostly PADS and the odd technological what-not that Wikus still couldn't identify - and placing them in a heavy pack. When he seemed to be complete, he placed the filled bag onto the centre table and turned to Wikus.

Lowering his eyes, as though he hadn't been staring, Wikus went back to the PAD that was still nearby, pretending to take interest in the text. Only when Christopher neared the bed did Wikus realize that he had been pretending to read it upside-down and without turning it on.

"Wikus," Christopher said quietly, not breaking his stare from the younger alien. Wikus didn't look up, but turned the PAD on and pretended to take interest in it once more - though he forgot to turn it right-side-up. "Wikus." Christopher said again, voice sterner. Wikus looked up this time.

Not waiting for the other to reply, he continued, "We have finished our delegations with the planet and purged all Poleekpwa technology from existence on earth." he paused, "The MNU is gone. We have made sure that every single facility has been no less than obliterated. We have spoken to a variety of governments and those who were involved with the previous affairs have been...punished."

"Well I'm fucking glad!" Wikus nearly shouted, throwing the PAD down, "I hope those bastards die for what they did - they deserve it!"

Christopher looked taken aback, eyes narrowed as though he didn't understand what Wikus had said, "You want them dead? Why would you say that?"

"Because they fucking deserve it! Nobody should be allowed to live after that shite! Hell, you should bomb the the whole damn planet back into the stone age so they think twice before doing something like that ever again!"

"Wikus, you don't mean that. It was the actions of few and the inaction of many, but that does not mean they deserve punishment. You cannot mean-"

"Yes I do!" Wikus screeched and the sound echoed through the chamber

"Wikus, punishment would just make them remember and resent our race more. And it would bring no comfort to those who suffered, beyond a lingering connection to the planet still. All we want is to be rid of Earth and to be done with what has happened on this planet. Destruction would do little else than give momentary satisfaction - and even then it would be less beneficial than the mere dispersion of the (governments) which preformed these actions - and trust me, our Theyl is unlikely to have let its leaders live. It is not our place to punish the entirety of your planet for-"

"It's not my planet! They hurt me too!"

The declaration echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls and coming back to Wikus as though a verdict. He opened his mouth to say more, but nothing came out. Is that how he really felt? Did he really not even think of this as his home any longer.

After a long silence, Christopher made a gargled noise as if clearing his throat, "I came to speak with you about the ships departure. We will be leaving tomorrow." he turned slightly from Wikus, staring at the blue glow of his computers, "I need to have your decision. Will you be staying?"

Wikus couldn't exactly say that his mouth went dry, but at the very least, he couldn't manage to speak. Christopher, though, seemed to be waiting for his response and even after a good five minutes, merely stood there in silence, watching him and waiting for a final declaration.

"I think," he started and trailed off. Closing his eyes, Wikus thought of the reasons he had to stay. He thought of being back in his own body and what that meant...thought of the fact that there was little other than that waiting for him on Earth. "N-no." He said in a quiet, unsteady tone, never opening his eyes.

Christopher gave a sound of acknowledgement, "Then you will need to get rest. We will be transporting up to the main ship early tomorrow and directly after that will be departing."

Wikus nodded, not opening his eyes. He was hiding inside of himself, not wanting to see what was around him, not wanting to take in the alien surroundings that he was already too familiar with. He stayed like that, listening to Christopher continue to pack and, later, pecking at one of his computer. When the bed dipped and Christopher climbed in, Wikus restrained himself from moving towards the other alien, trying with all his might to stay on his own side of the nest. But, when his mind became too wary from thinking about what was too come, in the early morning when he finally began to slip away, he found himself clinging to one of Christopher's long arms as though it were his only lifeline.

**One more question: Do you like the OC's so far? I do want to know so I can make sure whether to keep them in or out of the story as much as possible. **

I've had some people tell me they enjoyed Vaan, but I'm not sure about everyone else. I don't want to bore people with my OC's, but D9 isn't exactly ripe with minor characters or excess info on the aliens.

For all of you asking: Oliver will be in the next chapter!


End file.
